Dream in celadon green

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Do you remember your dreams?

As in, do you wake, strange and disturbed by that thing that your brain was cleaning from itself just a moment ago, your little eyes remming to their heart’s content* and your awake self thinking “my goodness, is that really what goes on in my head at night?”

Rubbing your eyes of sleep, you realise you were dreaming that you were going to spend a few years asking strangers in the street for photos of them in their helmets which was basically going to be the weirdest, least comprehensible hobby even to yourself.

And then it was true.

I think this is Natalie. But I can’t remember, because I met her in a dream, quite some time ago and I only just remembered then.

*do hearts have eyes?

By Eleanor Jackson

Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet, performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal about town, feminist, freewheeler, and friend.

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