although this was impossible.

When I was a kid (and sometimes still),

i could reach and touch the walls

(and the ceiling) from my sheeted bed

– although this was impossible.

And then, with an advance unstoppable,

my bed, the ceiling and the walls

could all be touching me.

And somewhere still there was

(and is) the thrill of sleeplessness

unrest: the anarchy of the unreal

the remains of the dream

of when i was a kid.

12 thoughts on “although this was impossible.

    1. Thanks Bob. I really appreciate your thoughts. I’m still of the opinion that as kids we had the magic running through us – and that we can still catch glimpses of it… and rekindle.

      What were your feelings?
      Peace xo

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Very similar to what you said in your poem. I would lie in bed quietly and imagine myself larger than I was, and could touch the walls and ceiling. I thought I was the only one.

        Yes, magic. Those glimpses of a strange childhood, did have magic, and I do still catch glimpses of it.

        I’m so glad you wrote this poem.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Have a look at Alice In Wonderland Syndrome, Bob. It does go someway to covering these -what shall we call them – false perspectives/perception distortions?

        Thanks man.


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