Remember, This Is Just a Dream

Remember, This Is Just a Dream

I just keep seeing you being eaten
by the giant tyrannosaurus rex
as he chases us through my dreams.
He flung your semi-overweight body
up in the air and caught you; I’ve never
seen a human break that way.
Almost like a Raggedy Ann Doll
without the sound.

Why you were the one who
the rex chose to eat was beyond me.
We all were together when he snatched
you from the ground. I cannot
forget your screams, like a woman’s.
For such a large man, it was almost
embarrassing.

It was so vivid. I grabbed
your best friend’s hand, tightly,
and we ran. I’ve never seen Josh cry.
It’s not as if we stole the car.
The keys were in the ignition.
We drove the nearest house and
stormed into it, scared.

We shuttered, wrapped in thick blankets,
like housecats drenched in water.
And there it shifted. My dream turned
and there came the Rex, mouth gaping.
He could speak.

 “Come, ride my back,”
he said. “Your friend has filled me;
I am no longer a creature of evil.”

I wonder if the Rex could sense our
undying hesitation. We saw you ripped
to shreds. So he smiled the only way a
dinosaur can smile and waved his
vestigial arms awkwardly.
“I am sated. Do not fear me.”

And we rode him around,
if only for your memory.