Annalise Wellman

Yesterday I sat in a tin shed,
Amid rows of ripening tomatoes,
Air thick with the scent of impending rain.
In my chest something stirred-
A familiar fluttering of anticipation,
Marking an adventure about to unfold,
As if I was excited at the prospect of leaving home,
Knowing there was uncertainty to behold.
But I lulled the beats in my heart back to sleep
Because it is in the past;
The journey is spent.
But that night my dreams had plans for me-

For in a daze I woke in the inky blur of night,
My senses enveloped in familiarity:
Notes of cloudberry soap
And musk of drying wool socks,
Gentle rocking of the waves,
Lapping water on a porthole glass-
Materializing in the onyx.
Just when I held out my hand to touch,
It started to fall away like sand,
And suddenly I was back home.

Maybe there was some dimensional slip,
Because I swear I had the contrary dream
A fortnight ago on the ship.
For in that instance I woke up at home-
Terrified I had imagined it all along.
Yet when my room fell away,
I knew it was not a dream at all.

But how does one revive a reverie?
And what is home anymore?
I am at a loss for answers.
Who even was I before?
My neighbors look at me
Like I’m a ghost.
Better that way-
I think I am finally free-

And in all my fear I pray:
Please don’t let the memories get old,
For every dream I ever dreamt
Came true on that schooner.
Now I’m holding on until the end of the credits
Because I can’t let it go-
But blessed I am
To have such
Things to miss
In a world
This cold.

~Annalise Wellman