A water dream

Rough, but there it is.

When they brought him out of the water,
Hands pushing down on his chest,
And the water running out of him
Like his skin was hay pulp drenched
A scarecrow out too long
They look at me and say 'Ma'm? Ma'm?'
I told them to keep trying.
Recalling advice from the future,
Pinch the nose, head back, blow in air,
Not enough, push down, you must force it
Punch the chest hard enough to crack ribs
That's not right, that's something else,
Press and press and like this...
I got Robert to do it
Robert built like a cart horse, fists like
Pistons, like a kick from a shire hoof, down!
See, I am already in black,
Jet around my neck like velvet
And on my hands an opal
From another life where they say I am bad luck.
From another life where I know what CPR is.
I say, 'keep trying, try!'
And when he wakes gasping,
The rain sweeps me away.

Barely Midday

I am done, trying not to dread meeting friends tonight. It will be excellent, I know! My problem is that awful sense of gathering myself up, like I have a pint of ability to be fun and interesting, and once that's done I'm just a very tired woman sitting there without glow. What actually happens is that I get there, we have wine and muck around, and I am quickly up for a laugh same as ever.

I got up at 7, made coffee, did some stuff. But I am not going to make it through to 7 tonight without sleep.

The poem, well it isn't a poem. It's a bit like a memory but not a dream, hypnogogic or something. I don't know what it is. My actual dreams right now are all bits of conversations in other rooms, things I hear and half hear and forget, while big thick bands of orange and blue cross my vision. No idea what is going on, especially as right now I dont feel drawn to those colours at all.