The Dream took me Back

The dream took me back as dreams sometimes do

To that previous life.

The time of suits and ties and wingtip shoes

Business meeting haircuts, leather portfolios and hundred-dollar pens


It was a role I knew well but never owned.

Stolen from tv shows and business magazines.

Borrowed from those that took their rehearsals

So much more seriously than I.


I spent the night trying to find the answer

To someone else’s problems.

To prove that I belonged, that I was indeed one of them.

I needed their gratitude to affirm my value


Yet who was I?


I didn’t hear my name spoken, or any name

Was I Rachel or was I Richard?

Is he still in there? And does it really matter, if it was a dream?

Or is it simply a synapse or two that refuses to fade away?


Could it be a message fighting to surface from deep within?

To covey a meaning I cannot seem to grasp.

The question remains, will he always be there

Waiting in the darkness to poison certainty with doubt?

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