Waiting on Halloween – Lucid Dreams With Strangest Themes

My lucid dreams have the strangest themes

Drawn from far and near and in-between

Plus oddities slipping through the seams

And rays of color that flow like streams

 

I’m in a home, but I’m not alone

Nothing special, not green or a dome

Simple yellow brick, without a hint of chrome

The grass is green, not space age foam

 

I’m at the window, in a state of sobriety

Not a clue, nor hint of any impropriety

It’s a regular night, not a hint of variety

Standing stoic, watching the chaotic society

lucid dreams

Young men enter, face me as their mentor

Gathering close, with me in the center

It seems strange, as I’m just an experimenter

With a long white coat that screams inventor

 

They all seem clever, just like a fox

Yet none of them are wearing socks

And each one carries a neatly wrapped box

Plus a ring of keys they try in locks

 

Artful Dodgers, my first impression

My mind imagines the list of transgressions

But clueless as to why this session

They all seem shy, until finally a question

lucid dreams

A zombie hoard has overrun the town

Everything bright is turning brown

Things are decaying in a rapid meltdown

Give us help to hunker down

 

Everyone gather and take a seat

While I pass out covering for your feet

But keep an eye out on the street

And your distance from whom you meet

 

Use the darkness to find survivors

Some of you can act as drivers

Everyone must gear up as fighters

Today each person becomes MacGyver

Solving problems with imagination

While trying to determine this causation

What unleashed this new damnation?

Something sinister or some mutation

Everyone busy and on a task

Yet in my mind, I need to ask

Is this real or just some mask?

Maybe I’m not sober but inside my flask

 

Headlights coming across the hill

A body strapped across the grill

Should we run or just stay still?

They pass on by, heading to the landfill

Another minute and another truck

Big fat tires that won’t get stuck

Windows full of drunken bucks

Like my buddies out hunting duck

 

The line of cars keeps passing by

Noise that sounds like battle cries

But maybe it’s just a shout goodbye

Or a proclamation that we should fly

 

No, not a chance, we will not run

To the vault! Grab the guns!

Hand them out, one by one

Time for zombie killing fun!

My prepper pay-off has arrived

Feeling finally satisfied

All those fears materialized

The undead crowd is just outside

 

Shoot and shoot and shoot some more

Let them know what we have in store

Watch them drop and hit the floor

Welcome to the final war!

 

Suddenly colored lights from overhead

Our band responds with shots of lead

Yet the glow gets bigger, spawning dread

Splitting us apart until widespread

Then one by one a piercing beam

Living soldiers start to scream

Watch them go; they turn to steam

Gone from crazy to extreme

 

Both zombies and now UFO’s

Squeeze off rounds like I’m in Chicago

Duck and cover, check my ammo

When I’m overcome with vertigo

 

Thought we were winning, but now I’m spinning

Vision blurry, air is thinning

Fighting zombies, who was I kidding?

Should have ran in the beginning

My final thought in this last scene

While I float up towards an alien machine

My head a mess with salient dreams

How many days until Halloween?

R J Schwartz
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R J Schwartz

I write about everything and sometimes nothing at all. I'm fascinated by old things, rusty things, abandoned places, or anywhere that a secret might be unearthed. I'm passionate about history and many of my pieces are anchored in one concept of time or another. I've always been a writer, dating back to my youth, but the last decade has been a time of growth for me. I'm continually pushing the limitations of vocabulary, syntax, and descriptive phrasing.

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