Category Archives: Dreams

17/09/2025

September 18, 2025 By in Death, Dreams, Forests, Light, Love, Registry, Sisters Tags: , , , , , Leave a comment

(cw: death)

It was me, waiting for me / Hoping for something more

– Joy Division, “New Dawn Fades” (1979)

Post-Punk did not die with Ian Curtis’ untimely death. but he was indeed gone for good that summer of 1980. being the ringleader, Joy Division passed along with him. he made that decision to cement himself into eternal tragedy. to think of the austerity of the life he led. you can hear it in his voice which was almost always cracking, on the precipice of giving up, and historically so prior to his demise. he never made it to the North America tour.

to lead a life of austerity is to feel mortality ebbing and trying its best to constitute itself within your own body. things have gotten easier but they can still be difficult. you wonder how many more things the universe can throw at you. a barrage of difficult events over a long period are not to make one stronger, but to force one into making decisions. the decision to leave. the decision to stay. the decision to forge on. the decision to give up. each and every decision has its responsibility and its consequences. there are a lot of things in the world that can chip away at your light and your reservoir of energy.

once upon a time i wanted to travel to places with you. i wanted to see fields and find areas that are so quiet we could hear our own hearts beating. the world is so big and we are both in it. somehow we could even know each other. there are places with crowds of people. there are places with crowds of trees, or crowds of rocks. there are places with little trees, and little rocks. i wanted to lead an authentic life like that. with my heart on the rocks and the trees and the grass and in the air. and i wanted to show it to you that i could do so. something i could share with you. we can find what is simple and happy that works. i still do. it just feels like it has aged.

when a dream is extinguished, the other dreams become precarious. if enough dreams become dashed, the rest could follow like a fission chain reaction. once all dreams are extinguished a person is left with bare goals. goals form a necessary layer for survival and the day-to-day. and even that is at risk of erosion too. i have wanted to imbue the world with many things. i am not stupid. but world might kick me in the shins and call me stupid. i am already trying to nurse wounds. yet. eating can become hard again. sleeping can continue being not restful. dreams are possible until they are not. dreams might not be possible until they are. wake me up when they are.

to think that the light went out in you and you chose it to. i wonder if what made you into a husk is hollowing me out too. did you push your light to see where it could still take you, until it got so strained it turned into a fading ember? how tired were you by this point? was love no longer enough for you? is devotion something that failed you? did you feel that there was nothing else left for you, too? the Moon is already more than enough. but i am not the Moon, which means that is thrown into question. you were more than enough, but maybe you could not see it. i am left behind wondering what is left, and how much loss becomes too much of a cost.

as it turns out, there is poverty in time and space too. the past is rendered poor by its own consequence of letting its richness fade backwards into time. your own room can turn into a prison when the conditions are ripe for it, along with the places you frequent, the places of routine. being too tired to cry from the day’s labors is a constriction of both time and space too. the loss of a relationship makes the spaces in your world smaller. the smaller it becomes, the more trapped you will feel.

you want to feel the enchantment of The New again. you want to put in the work to make it something that is worthwhile and lasting. but can you handle the disappointment that might follow? can you handle any further hurt if it comes towards you at this point? can you live with yourself if you fail again, and if you repeat the same mistakes without intending to, and reach the limits of what your best can do? you have many wounds and you are still prone to more.

if there can be something else, this is a call.

18/05/2025

May 18, 2025 By in Ageing, Astrology, Desire, Dreams, Love, Registry, Time Tags: , , , , , Leave a comment

And so may / We make time / To try and find somebody else / Who has aligned

– Interpol, “C’mere” (2004)

“It’s a jaded love song – very bitter” was what Interpol’s (the 2000s post-punk revival band) main vocalist Paul Banks remarked about their track “C’mere”, from their 2004 record Antics. he was 26 by then. i’m a bit older than that now getting into this particular band. it’s apparent that by our late 20s – perhaps also due to our ongoing respective Saturn Returns – many of us would have begun noticing our age. having an ‘old soul’ turns out to be very different from ageing. people used to say how i was the former. now i’m both. ageing has a toll. the toll is the number of roads taken up to that point.

i wonder if you would still keep up, if you would still read this. i like to think that you have suffered greatly but now you have happiness. i have suffered greatly but now i have suffering. this is the period where we shift into a phase where we can no longer get any younger. where the years are becoming hard counters. if you are reading this, you know already how much i love you. while loving you i think of the time ticking, how long my body and heart can last. my heart has held up for you – it’s afraid that if it stops beating my love for you perishes with it. i think of all the people who have wanted you happiness too, and i know i’m not the only one. i’m not special, and that’s alright. i have loved many others too, like you already have and are loving. but after all these years, i have loved no other quite like how i love you. again, i’m not special in that, and that’s really okay. again, these things happen. we try to find somebody else.

i’ve seen you fall in love over and over. it does feel like ageing. you know it’s ageing when the circumstances are different and the same, and how that paradox is gradually inscribed into your bones. i still dream of earning what you can keep. i haven’t watched the moonlight with you just to witness nothing happening as a small miracle. i have watched you fall in love again. if i wanted to make you content and safe i would. if someone else wanted to make you content and safe i would be glad that they are there to do so. i know it’s human for me to feel pangs and unease. i’ve felt it already and thought of everything i could. i’m still looking out there to see where my desire takes me – you know, i learnt that from you. i wonder about how yearning and grieving almost feel the same, despite the former anticipating loss and the latter having experienced loss. but i’ve already been through all of that, and i take inventory, see what i have in store to soothe while my heart aches periodically.

if you’re reading this, and actually reading this – ageing was something i wanted to experience with you. some of the painful kind, but also the graceful kind. for the years to come i’m willing learn to love your liver spots and recalibrate our diets. i’ll remember some of your ex-lovers and you’ll recall some of mine. but in the right here right now, that’s too latent, too early. but i try to keep my promises, and these are some of them i will make to you.

the search for something else continues. you and i know that i’ve made the choice to take the hurt as it comes. and growing old is finding new ways of living while clinging on to old mementoes. it’s to never really move on but find the courage to keep on living anyhow. i think of how long it has been, and how we’ve all changed in ways. i have learnt that love lasts so long and strong after all. as long as i’m alive and fighting i’ll see you around and miss you in many different ways. i can find my joints gradually liquefying and still dare more to dream – even if there’s things in the way along the way, that i can still be with you one day, for once.

10/11/2023

November 10, 2023 By in Death, Dreams, Ghosts, Love, Memory, Registry, Time Tags: , , , , , Leave a comment

Time has stopped again.

I have been tracking the way time flows. It has not moved a lot, or even a bit on some days. When it does it goes in a recursion. I am tired of going backwards. From backwards I return to stasis. Dread accompanies those loops. Dreams intensify those loops. It’s like being infected by a temporal sickness. Whenever time stops still at 0s/s it feels the closest to death itself. In death time stops for a single person – in a localized field of stasis. While outside the field time goes on in other ways.

There are so many things I would like to say. Sometimes I whisper them in my dreams. Dreams become a very unreliable sandbox. Outside of dreamtime I wonder if it is worth it to say anything at all. I play scenarios in my head, both in sobriety and dreams. I try not to replay actual past scenarios. For when I do, I would begin to edit things: add a what-if here, and a could-have there. Time would loop backwards again like a song on replay but backwards. Ocean Vuong’s Time Is A Mother has a poem that does that. Rewind and stop, rewind and stop. It is one thing to rewind, but another to stop. So much of memory are frozen moments drained of life and time. To capture, to freeze joy or pain like that, as if it were a precious crystal barely unchanging, is cruel. It does no justice to the complexity of recollection to remember like this. To resume time forwards or backwards even worse so. It is like reanimating literal skeletons in one’s closet. It is necromancy. It is trying to reimbue life to something that just wants to rest. Skeletons just want to be dead and buried.

The obvious solution is to let go. Let go of time. Let go of memory. Let it reflow. Not something that I have mastery of. Something that takes time to learn. Time has stopped.

12/09/2023

September 12, 2023 By in Disease, Dreams, Registry Tags: , , , , , , Leave a comment

(cw: death, murder, rape, sui)

I had two pieces of black organza salvaged from a sympathy bouquet for Brianna Ghey in February. I didn’t know her personally of course. But whenever I grieve over her or think of her, it always feels like it could have been any of us. Trans lives have tended towards shortness. Whenever a trans sibling’s birthday passes (very recently, C’s did), it is a sobering achievement on its own. It marks another year of survival for one of us. The ways we leave can be brutal, violent: murder, incarceration, rape, suicide. This past month, every single day I have wanted to end it all. My dreams have intensified and have emotionally exhausted me. I have been so tired, and so very lonely.

I felt that the way we mourned for those who we have lost can be extended into back into daily life. This was why I ended up with two pieces of organza in my storage. I was figuring out a life and practice for them beyond the mourning period. Today I discovered a place for one of the pieces. My room is positioned well. On some nights, I have witnessed the Moon on her serene rise through my window. High upon the ledge of my window I have installed a clear acrylic case. I have stuffed the case with the organza, where my rocks can lie snug. When needed, the Moon will keep them company. It’s a precarious arrangement, but I try my best to make things comfortable.

If failure smells, it has become my odor. If heartbreak stinks, I have been wearing it like parfum. I can barely stay awake during the day or night. While I am awake I have been stuffing myself with food. I want to give up.

Miss (12/03/2020)

December 21, 2022 By in Dreams, Love, Parallels, Physics, Poetry, Quantum Physics, Timelines Tags: , , , , , Leave a comment

for Neil

Sorry, we cannot meet:
there are two lines that cannot intersect
like us, and I dodged the bullet, and the
collapse of our quantum wave functions.

Thanks Schrödinger – there are people
I never met, cannot meet, will be unfazed
to see in other timelines.
How I did break my ankle,
or your date, or what we could
have not ever destroyed.

Lack of Dawn

December 29, 2019 By in Clouds, Dreams, Night, Stars, Sun, Tarot, Ten of Swords 1 Comment

How we used to breathe starlight,
because I imagined there were no
clouds overhead: each cloud was
every exhalation of how this night
fails to end, how I keep dreaming
of a comet that would not fall
for me. Each dream counts the
number of breakfasts I’ve missed
and the number of swords I eat
during dinner; I counted ten
to completion, to end all wounds.
See: all I did was to feed myself
waiting for the sun to rise on set.

Suiteroom – Take 3

October 13, 2019 By in Algorithms, Copout, Dreams, Drinks, Path, Poetry, Registry, Rooms, Tea, Words 1 Comment

Microsoft Windows [Version 10.0.17134.829]
(c) 2018 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.

C:\Users\Lune>darken puddle
‘darken puddle’ is not recognized as an internal or external command,
operable program or batch file.

C:\Users\Lune>add tears
‘add tears’ is not recognized as an internal or external command,
operable program or batch file.

C:\Users\Lune>dose check
‘dose check’ is not recognized as an internal or external command,
operable program or batch file.

C:\Users\Lune>hot tea
‘hot tea’ is not recognized as an internal or external command,
operable program or batch file.

C:\Users\Lune>stroll room
‘stroll room’ is not recognized as an internal or external command,
operable program or batch file.

C:\Users\Lune>d:

D:\>cd Google Drive\Poetry

D:\Google Drive\Poetry>type Suiteroom_3.txt

An Empty Barstool is Love

July 8, 2019 By in Alcohol, Bars, Cities, Dreams, Poetry, Sun, Water Leave a comment

(after Pooja Nansi)

Dreaming on a Barstool: on an infinity 
of regression of dreaming barstools; we
in a dream bar / you crafting cocktails for;
/meinatelegramcommand; @yourusername;
we watching Europe go by as art noveau;
two blue ticks consent to a means to an end;
4.00 / morning / bak chor mee / eyelids/lips;
poem for you soaked in vodka & tomorrow;
you opening whiskey an observer effect;
sizes A4 on the rocks, A3 shaken, A2 stirred;
one night, we went to a bar to drink water;
one day, we discovered alcohol to be water;
I woke up in a universe without dreams;
we watched the bartender set twin suns;
being-in-itself & being-for-itself, for myself.