A Freudian Self-Analysis


I had a dream last night

Dreaming about Tomarrow.

And while the needle, jammed into my flesh

Demands that fantasy, mix with pain

I still believe in Tomarrow.

Bittersweet, this nightly transendence

into the mind’s eye

Leaving the cares, the sorrows, the tears

However briefly.

But dreams don’t stop reality from rushing in

Like an icy wave, slapping against the chest

Taking your breath away.

Wide awake- the pain now has a name

An infusion set gone south.

Yank from leg,

And as blood spurts against the sheets

the stress of the dream melts away.

Well, since I’m already awake, might as well check the o’le blood sugar

After changing the sheets.

No high, no low, graces that early morning scene.

132 mg/dl- precisely where it should be.

And yet, I marvel at the abilitity of diabetes

To steal shut-eye in another unusual way.

Sometimes, I know I have diabetes (in my dreams)

it manifests itself by frantic eating (lows)

and drinking water (highs)

but this dream was just a sense of un nameable pain

that I couldn’t fix, couldn’t help, couldn’t wake up from.

I think that dreams, in general, must cope with said “thorns in the flesh”

reality bites, but its how the world works.

They must coexist- you may never be a millionaire, might not make it to 100.

(statistically speaking, not likely to happen)