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Tereza’s Dream

Tereza’s Dream

Dreams tell the viewer something he must face
Inside living moments, as if passing through.
Tell me, Freud, if strangers blindfold me, demand
I embrace the tree as they shoot me from behind,
A firing squad, what should I make of this dream?

Detail: the jury of one, my trust, I
Spared.
The foolish squad walks off into the misty edge
Of the dream, swinging their rifles like golf clubs.
I embrace the tree like an apple seed.

When these dreams slip outside their subconscious
Frame living moments, just passing through,
Tell me, Freud, if I am the stranger blindfolding myself,
Do I deserve pardon, or should they tie me to the tree
Whip me for the crimes I commit?

Detail: the jury of one, my trust, I
Cannot spare
My consequence, walking to the misty edge of dreams
Guns still pointing at the center of my heart,
Like life looking to drop its seed.

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