Dreams, Doors, and Shadows

There are strangers at the door   

tall, thin, shadowy,

made of nothing, 

but yet of something.

I am in a house that has been 

showing up in my dreams a long time. 

It is a modest house 

in a modest neighborhood. 

It is not my house. 

Sometimes it shows up as the house of my parents, 

but mostly it shows up as a house belonging to an aunt and uncle 

where Tyler and I stop on the journey 

to see my parents.   

Early this morning it belonged to a friend

who did not appreciate 

the shadowy figures that appeared on her doorstep. 

She locks the door made of glass (usually the door is made of wood.)

They do not leave, but they do not try to come in.   

 But I need to leave. 

I open the door as little as possible,

and squeeze through.  

The figures press closer.  

I shut the door behind me

but it will not lock. 

I am feeling stuck. 

I want to let my friend know 

that the door is unlocked.  

I knock. 

She comes to the door 

and shakes her head no.   

I try to tell her that 

I cannot lock the door.  

She does not seem to see or hear me.  

I worry about that.   

The door then locks.

I worry about that.    

        

  

             

image: When I began to look for an image, I had little hope of finding something that might fit.  However, I think this older photograph does nicely.  If we are fortunate, we all have doors. We certainly all have dreams and shadows, even when we forget.