Astral Companion [Imaginary Friends Pt. 1]

—  —
We have met many nights
before –
I dreamed of you when I was young.

You came to my bedside
where I slept, you spoke
without tongue.

There were times I could not
my body,
but I left         myself

— —

You won’t believe me, but he was
made of blue electricity, had
nerves connecting
like a slow lightning of anatomy.

His shape was that of a man
with greatness in his stature,
but only appeared as a
s i l h o u e t t e      strangely seen – only
deep within vivid lucid dreams.

— —

As a kid,
I believed his name was
Dr. Feeny.
I believed he often hid and
watch me from the
ceiling vent.

I told my mother stories
of him, but they were never true.

Recollecting now, I find it eerie
this old companion I keep: the watchful
man of blue.

— —

In daylight, the Doctor took notes
of the things I did alone –
Always keeping mindful
his studying me,
I lived a game of charades:

I was afraid
some how, he would deem me
immoral or “crazy” –
I feared he would take me away
for further experimentation.

So, I feigned a simulation
to fool the Doctor’s speculation:
this ‘game’
I named:
“Normal Child Playing.”

— —

I never told my mother – I sensed
she would respond with worried eyes, and
send me back to the therapist.

I knew there were dark signs
hidden within
an ominous complexity
of my childhood ‘lies’
and fantasies –
so I kept for myself the truth of Dr. Feeny.

— —

— —

The man of blue
paid a visit
just a few nights ago, but this time
was different:

It was another dream
where I awoke frantically,
but could not move or speak.

Most times in this
paralyzed state
of sleep, my echo stands away
from the bed
and looks down upon my body,
still curled away in blankets, bone,
and flesh.

— —

But, when my companion comes,
I am trapped and half-way-between –
it is not real, nor is it a dream.

— —

Three nights ago, he came –
he stood parallel to where I lay.
My eyes rolled, my fingers twitched,
but so it seems,
my soul, my body
were close – but unsay-ably separate.

Though I could not move,
I saw –
he stretched out an arm and
pointed his finger.

It lifted slowly, and so did
when our fingertips met,
he spoke in my mind.

— —

Not once did his head turn
to where I lay,
but even still
I can remember him say:
‘I need you to do this for me.’

Our meeting is so hazy, now,
when I try to figure out
what I was asked to do
by my strange, dream companion.

— —

Whether the Doctor is a fiendish man,
I do not think – nor do I consider him a friend.

But I do know he comes to see me,
has studied me closely, and
finds me in some place of in-between.

— —
— —

Is the man of blue just a dream?
Or could he be an uncovered reality?
Are they right, am I crazy?

Or could it be could it be that
dreams and
all mean the same thing –

maybe there is truth in what I see.


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