by Kim Conklin
I wish I had told you this story. When you died, there were so many things left unsaid.
There is much that feels like someone else's life. So much time was wasted waiting for my life to begin.
Waking hours were sleepwalking. Reality only pierced the fog in my dreams.
About a year before you died, I dreamt I was standing alone on a dark corner under a streetlamp. There was nothing as far as the eye could see.
A bus pulled up. He was driving. He waved angrily for me to hurry and embark.
Reluctantly, I got on and sat beside him. The seats behind us rose in a theatre formation. They were empty. The house lights were on.
He drove down the deserted freeway like a maniac. The billboards flashed rolling computer codes. We passed too quickly to be able to read them.
I knew I was on the wrong bus, but jumping off was a death sentence. I was afraid, but by then I was used to that.
That's where the dream ended, barreling down a dark freeway on an empty bus, trapped with a driver full of anger and hate, no signs to guide the way.
I woke up next to him. I never told you. Anything.
I wish I had told you this story.
When you died, there were
so many things
left unsaid.
There is much
that feels like
someone else's life.
So much time wasted
waiting for my life
to begin.
Waking hours
were sleepwalking.
Reality
only pierced the fog
in my dreams.
About a year
before you died,
I dreamt I was
standing alone
on a dark corner
under a streetlamp.
There was nothing
as far as the eye could see.
A bus pulled up.
He was driving. He waved angrily
for me to hurry and embark.
Reluctantly, I got sat beside him.
The seats behind us rose
in a theatre formation.
They were empty, the
house lights were on.
He drove down the deserted freeway
like a maniac. The billboards
flashed rolling computer codes.
We passed too quickly to read them.
I was on the wrong bus
but jumping off
was a death sentence.
I was afraid, but by then
I was used to that.
That's where the dream ended,
barreling down a dark freeway
on an empty bus,
trapped with a driver full of anger and hate,
no signs to guide the way.
I woke up next to him.
I never told you. Anything.
14
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For the 52/250's Missed the Bus theme. The second version was suggested by Bill Yarrow.
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Yesssss!
Thanks James!
The witheld until the final line revelation elevates a fine story to another level yet.
Thanks, David! I'm glad you liked it.
Kim, such a beautifully lyrical piece.
Thanks, billy!
To me, this whole piece reads like a poem.
barreling down a dark freeway
on an empty bus
trapped with a driver
full of anger and hate
no signs to guide the way
that's where the dream ended
Yes, I can see that.
Wow, Bill, never thought of that. I guess I don't really think of myself as a poet. Let me add a second version...
Enjoyed this piece, Kim. Especially like: "Waking hours were sleepwalking. Reality only pierced the fog in my dreams."
Great closing.
You know, Kim, I wasn't even thinking this should be a poem, but, as a poem,---Wow!
I think it really works.
Either way, congratulations! Really good piece.
*
Thanks, Sam and Bill! Bill, glad you liked the edit. Still not sure what to think myself, but I enjoyed it!
You bring the reader along on that ride. Raised the hair on the back of my neck. *
Thanks for riding along, Jack!
Crisp, short sentences, move this dreamscape along to its harrowing ending. Excellent work. *
enjoyed this a lot. interesting about the second version. i can see how the prose poem is deserving of line breaks. it does bring out the flow!
Thanks for the great comments Frank and Marcus!
Loved this!
Faved.
Thanks, Gloria!
Kim, I read and faved this yesterday. It's completely amazing. You could begin at "About a year before you died..." but that's just a thought. This takes my breath away. Wonderful work.
Thank you for the great suggestion, Kathy!
Gosh, yes, that ending. I appreciate the two versions, kind of nice to see it two ways! I think there are some lines that lend themselves better to the poem, and vice versa, so to me this is quite interesting. Enjoyed all around.
Thanks very much, Kari!
fave!*
Personally I like the prose version. And I could see it going on, as in a series of short pieces. I'm always drawn to the interplay between dream and reality.
Thanks, Jerry!
Kim this has a frighening beauty, it's odd, dreamlike, other-worldly and it tapped me in places I'm afraid. You wrote this piece really well!
*
Thanks so much, Susan!
Wow, what an amazing piece. Love the flow and the chill that comes with it. *
Thanks, Jules!
This is lovely and claws at my insides at the same time. Thanks for posting it.
HM *
Thanks, Harley!
Fascinating. I've read my share of well-done foreboding, but this is the very successful opposite. You get the end up front, but bite your nails while moving toward it.
Thank, Beate! Glad you liked it!