Peering Through Keyholes

Poetry - by John Reinhart

When I dreamed myself into life on this plane, I imagined 

burning my tongue on freshly brewed coffee, slicing the tip off my finger

grating carrots, pulling a two-inch sliver out of my arm with pliers, chatting

with a neighbor clearly suffering mental instability while his daughter

wandered our chicken-infested yard and visited with my children, or when

another neighbor cut off his finger entirely and began yelling and I left my children

to talk him down and search for his finger while we waited for the ambulance. I dreamed of taking the wrong exit, of eating tabasco ice cream, of stepping barefoot

in dog shit in the middle of the night, of staying up with crying, vomiting children,

of jogging four miles to make it to an appointment after missing the bus. I dreamed

of doing the wrong thing, of saying the wrong thing, of saying the right thing

at the wrong time, or just being thoughtless, of seeing what needed to happen,

of doing it, of making a difference, of getting waffles right, of packing enough

lunch, snack, and remembering which child detests peanuts and which one won’t eat almonds. When I dreamed myself here, I did not know the pain. I wanted to feel the pain. The pain is what reminds me I’m alive. And I wanted to be alive. I wanted to feel alive,

to live, to breathe deeply, to laugh up from my toes, to feel warmth from a fire permeate every part of one side of my body before turning to rotisserie the other side. I wanted

to feel love, loss, regret, forgetfulness, directionlessness. The weight of gravity after

an eight-hour third shift. The despondency of yesterday. The fear of tomorrow.

The loneliness of now. And balled into tiny fists battering the inside of this snow globe

I carefully and cleverly constructed from bits I discovered in the rubbish heap. 

When I dreamed myself here, I knew I would forget that I had dreamed this all, 

I planned it. I don’t remember what it is to feel weightless and detached. For now, 

I look forward to falling asleep of dreaming myself into myself again,  

even just for a moment or two.