The gifts of the subconscious

You dreamed about her for two nights before recalling

who she was, your current student and dream-world girlfriend,

grown up and teaching junior high school, with a roommate

who kept things from going too far, along with your subconscious.

You and she made out, to put it bluntly, kissing and rubbing,

nearly chaste if not for the fact that you were already married in the dream, too.

They lived in a ratty little apartment and kept house badly,

so you dreamed of cleaning out, to their glee, the disgusting toaster

and of cleansering out the sink, which was too greasy

for any civilized adult. Your subconscious

also kept you ashamed, for though the dream’s streets were unfamiliar,

the car you drove nothing like the one you’d drive in real life,

you still had the sense to be furtive and fearful, pulling a cap

down over your eyes and hoping no one recognized you,

that your own children wouldn’t be in that unknown part

of the unnamed town.

When you realized who she was,

you were shocked – except for your subconscious, of course,

which never is. Your girlfriend in that dream looked forward

to your marrying, even though her being half your age

would be an improvement. She found you funny, exciting,

generous, maybe even good looking, though dreams

can only go so far.

Who do you think you are,

having dreams like this? Your dreams are so much more

mundane as a rule, about replaying high school sports

or telling off the supervisor badly in need of it. Rarer

are these of the subconscious wish-fulfilling variety, which perhaps

makes them the greater and more unsettling gift.