Don’t Tarry, Field of Dreams Ahead

“Miasma of Dreams” — digital composite image

This blog was written just a few months back for another location online. Dreams have been on my mind a lot lately, as the last two years have allowed for an explosion of theaters in the sleeping mind, usually in the wee hours of morning. It seemed a good idea to add it in as an earlier archived post, given the previous post. This work grew from one of those dreams which stopped by around February of this year.


It may not be wise to tarry in another’s field of dreams, with the Dreamtime on another continent, far older and wiser than we.

The miasma of dreams is to be reckoned with, not just employed.

They all come to us, whether invited, or whether we recall them or not. Some pass without notice. Some slow for a settled visit and perturb our thoughts of self, and who and what we are. Some are inclined to entertain, yet there seems always a point where, as in a play, they as character face the fourth wall and declare, eyeball to eyeball, that “I am not here to entertain you. I’m not even here to declare.”
We do not know why they are there.

You’re on your own in a strange soup of memories, whether your own or another’s by default or description. But the experience is offered; you either accept it or turn away, for miasmas are eerily fearful places, places of the past, of wishes crushed and promises never rendered into action and your layers of consciousness fall back as onionskin peels from the core of your own being.

“I dreamed I was barer than naked, and it scared me so bad that I called, ‘Help me back to the prison, with the chains of the living—’ although nothing had hurt me at all.” ≈ Tom Dundee

Vicarious or original, first-person or by default, accident or decree, we wrestle with dreams, we waltz with them, and at times, some take us into their arms.

Such dreams are here upon business, as an America writer once illumined. The day-to-day of his storied life concretized until he hooked a comet’s tail back into the primordial stew from which he emerged upon his birth on Earth.

Our lives, for the most part are not storied.

But at times, they extend beyond grasp, and to welcome them, rather than run from them, can deliver us from our own limitations.

Maybe, especially, today.

“Miasma of Dreams,” digital composite image from the Hybrid series of works, words and image Copyright 2019 Tom Ogburn, All Rights Reserved.


The full lyrics of my friend Tom Dundee’s lyrics are included below, and no one can claim the power of his words, inspired by his dream of being an onion and having each layer peeled away, except for Tom Dundee himself, who lived on that street in Chicago before departing Callinan. May his spirit and presence always be with us in this World.

A Delicate Balance

“Deep within there is a vision
That time is nothing but space,
And between every minute and mile that is in it
Somehow there’s a beautiful face.

And its all such a delicate balance
That the sport of infinity gives,
Expectations we have can lead down the path
Where that devil discouragement lives.

I dreamed I was barer than naked
And it scared me so bad that I called,
“Help me back to the prison, with the chains of the living”
Although nothing had hurt me at all.

And its all such a delicate balance
As it turns through the circles of air,
To worry does nothing but steals from the loving
And robs from the pleasure that’s there.

To worry does nothing but steals from the loving
And robs from the pleasure that’s there.

Deep within there is a feeling
That love and understanding is the door,
And honesty is the key that was given to you and me
To open it and so many more.

And its all such a delicate balance
Takes away just as much as it gives,
To live it is real, to love it is to feel
You’re a part of what everything is.

And its all such a delicate balance
As it turns through the circles of air,
To worry does nothing but steals from the loving
And robs from the pleasure that’s there.

And its all such a delicate balance
Takes away just as much as it gives,
To live it is real, to love it is to feel
You’re a part of what everything is.”

≈ Tom Dundee, circa 1977

Tom

Almost born on the hospital steps of Camden in a rush to be on time...