Dream of: 18 February 2019 "Poem Of Death"

 I am writing a short poem about "death." This is the last poem in a series of poems which I am composing in a little book of poems. I am, however, having a difficult time with this poem and I am almost ready to give up on it. The poem is murky and unclear, but finally it starts to come together and I think I am going to be able to write it.

I am looking at a picture in front of me. On the extreme right side of the picture is standing a man, half of whose body is cut off by the right side of the picture from my perspective. The top of his head is also cut off by the top of the picture. As a result, I only see part of his face and part of his body, which is clothed in a luxuriant, red, medieval-looking garb. The picture seems to be a picture of me, although it does not display my face, but that of a man who is probably in his mid 40s. 

I decide that I want to scan this picture and place it on the same page where my poem about death is going to be written. I think the picture would fit in quite well with the poem.

Commentary of 24 February 2019

No matter how many people inhabit our waking lives, we appear to be alone when we dream.

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