Dreams Hath I Had

Dreams Hath I Had. No, they weren’t bad dreams at all yet weren’t good dreams nor dreams to say goodnight with. They were instead dreams of a  life with dreams fulfilled, dreams unfulfilled with no false promises to keep them down. My dreams held so close to me so I would never let them go nor would they ever let me go. In this dream, I saw clouds of blue, children singing and dancing, a deer with its fawn drinking from a crystal clear mountain stream.

There was a dream that I had that hurt would never hurt again. Genuine smiles so bright so broad the sun would pale by comparison. In the heat of the night, lovers would clench. My dream held a rainbow of hope. The mighty cloud of depression that hangs overhead was vanquished taking with it the mighty demon known as anxiety.

In one dream we all felt the soft tender skin of a newborn baby. The life of this baby was revered by all who knew it as one of their very own. I saw its tiny little fingers wrap themselves around it bottle as it was hoisted to its lips. The wonder of the world was revealed as its eyes saw for the first time. Let them never see or know of evil. All this and more in one dream I once had.

On a cool crisp starry night, the man on the moon looked across space with tears streaming down its cratered face at a planet it could no longer recognize. Yellow haze blotted out the light the moon harnassed. The hope it held for optimism had vanished. Optimism for hope also had vanished. In this sullen dream, no thoughts or commentary on the above could I offer.

A bee drilled its stinger into the tip of my finger. An onslaught of bees swarmed over me relentlessly injecting their poisonous venom into my skin. I began to uncontrollably shake, sweat, tremble before lapsing into a coma-like state. Is this really the end my body seemed to sense it was. Stammering whilst stuttering for words that I could say that I was in need of help. No help was coming as no plea was heard. This pain was like no other pain I ever felt before. When will death mercifully take me? Awash in my bodily fluids I awoke to discover I had dreamt a nightmare. Hard though I tried  I could not take me away to new or better dreams.

From the misty mountain top high above the world, I would roar out my dire warning that dreams had no place in an anti-social society torn asunder by the bludgeoning only man himself can bring. The deaf response fell on receptive ears but was not understood. Just then a red robbin appeared before my wanting eyes. The robbin tilted it head blinked its beady eyes before its rambling beak broke the code of communication enunciating its position on the likeness love can still grow with songs sung by all.

Deep in my silent slumber, I heard the thunderous roar as the walls were breached. The holy scrolls were set on fire. The sin of our slander of another. Salacious lies we told. Haughty and mighty we thought we were although in his eyes we would soon be vanquished dust. Our temple had been torn down. Bow down we must not to our conquerors. Worship not their false idols. They are not our G-d.  On this day reserved for weeping, we recant in horror the misdeeds we have done. Our regrets for lessons not yet learned. Phylacteries males may not now lay. Food is forbidden for us. When will our heads be risen up to have the rebuilt temple revealed to us? For this day we all do dream.

Was it a dream or what was it when bodies were burnt to ash. The putrid smell of rotting flesh. Shovels driven into the ground by hands of bone alone to make a grave for themselves to be shot in the head to take residence in the holes they dug. Shoved like loaves of bread into the oven to be baked when the Zyklon B in concert with Sarin put an end to them all. Hundred upon thousands. In the end, we survived, we are alive. They could not kill us. NEVER AGAIN! NEVER AGAIN!

On a new day that soon shall dawn still another dream of sorts, shall I have in the midst of the corner in my mind? Tumultuous times have come again. Though if my arm shall extend to thee in love whilst you lower your luscious lips upon it? Adorn me with thy kisses ripe with affection. I to you with you to me as we begin together two into one. A fantasy. Pure fantasy perpetuated in my dream. True everlasting love can never be a fantasy certainly not a whimsical want without need.

In hopes of eradicating hate can we form a song to sing together? One song sung with many different voices with one message for all. Put it down! Put it down! Please don’t relay your hurt, anger or pain with hailstorms of bullets. Spilling red rivers of blood will not heal you. Dying the death of a misplaced martyr or a troubadour marked for eradication is not the road your travels should take you on. Your ears are not hearing rallying cries or the call from sub-righteous unconscious souls. Embark on a dream for doing for good as good is what you need. Thirst for it and drink it down. You know you can. You know you must.

Time to turn the page away from poorly placed poetry. Hold both edges of the black disk in your hands flip it over and place it down again. Close your eyes to let the magic of the music take you away. That is what I do. That is how I can do what I do to write these words to you. There is a natural proclivity or predisposition I have to draw you into explorations of abstract thoughts riddled with languages from those you may not know.

From the being hurt from hurt or hated from hate while being liked by those who like is where I dangle the banner of my vulnerabilities in front of eyes that can hopefully see be seen or known by those who know of its presence. I am living in life as you are. Some of us are maligned while others misunderstood. Others just simply not wanted but nobody seems to know why. It’s okay for I too not knoweth why.

Darkness on the edge. Shadows where  I stand. I search for time on a watch with no hands. I want to see you clearly. Come closer than this. But all I remember are the dreams in the mist.

–These Dreams by Heart.

Lilacs and lilies in the bed across the field.

Dandelions of white and yellow on the move.

Sunflowers and red roses.

Falling rain through falling stars

There it all is. There it shall be.

My birds speak my words.

Morose or verbose you alone shall decide.

Dreams Hath I Had


Joel Elveson
Joel Elveson
INDEPENDENT Executive Recruiting By Joel is an "up and coming" Executive Search Firm formed and headed up by Joel Elveson whose visionary ideas, leadership & creativity have brought to life a more "user-friendly" approach to recruiting. His clients and candidates form powerful strategic partnerships that we use to help you. Joel’s Firm offers Permanent, Temporary (case by case), & Temporary To Permanent staffing solutions for all of your Human Capital Requirements. Contract IT/Consultants are available if needed. Above and beyond they are experts (by way of their personal industry work experience) with mortgage, mortgage banking, middle-market banking, accounting, along with many others under the vast financial spectrum of disciplines. Their business goes beyond candidate recruiting as they also train, mentor and develop your internal recruiting staff with an eye towards helping you reduce the cost of hiring. They will also work in areas such as compensation, effective onboarding processes and alike. In other words, their business is to help your business by becoming an extension of you by filling in gaps that cause delay or waste. The recruiting methods employed by Joel’s team are time tested that results in a high rate of successful placements. Joel was trained in the art of recruiting by some of the top staffing industry executives in addition to the best recruiter trainers who to this day drive me to exceed the lofty goals he has set forth.

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  1. This one I need to digest. Your dreams are spiritual, passionate, violent and releasing while portions fall into a biblical and historical context. I’m not in a place to listen to the audio at the moment but will as I’m sure it will bind the different dreams together.

    • The fact that you read my article means a lot as clearly I am not in your class as a poet. There are many different elements to my writing style which can make it hard to understand. Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull come to think of it made a statement that lyrics should not be easy to understand for the lyricist and the listener. I guess subconsciously that statement influenced me.

  2. Joel, as always, I take time to read your beautiful articles that touch the hearts of many I am sure. This one is no different. I try earnestly to always read those who take the time to read mine as well, as I know with the business of daily lives, that is difficult at times. However, this article prompted a dream to come to paper from the past that never escapes me. Thank you. Know that prayers follow.

  3. Dear Joel Sir, your mastery as a wordsmith comes to the fore again and again. In here, you have taken me on a wild ride, straight from the cradle to the beautiful expectations, the unfriendly, unmanly tormentors, from the life of a thinker to the one dying under the load of uncalled for misery. Not only that, I find your passion for adding the lyrics in a precisely befitting manner nothing short of a cherry on the cake, if you will. Need I say, I enjoy the captivating rhythm that you create with your articulate diction par excellence.

    On a side note, you may find me missing almost every time you share your superb writing for all of us to enjoy. However, let it be told, I do read each one of them as soon as I can, and shall continue to do so.

    Warm regards!

    • Bharat,

      I know what a busy man you are so you need not worry. Reading this magnificent comment I feel two different emotions. Your comment was especially gracious while being incredibly written. On the other side, I hope the day will come soon that you will be publishing articles on a regular basis again as I for one (I am sure there are many others) who miss seeing your writing.