Foreign unconscious

My dreams lately seem like things out of other people's heads. Incoherent mystery plots in rural houses. Death of minor characters from years back. Long, slow, intense pursuit of nothing in particular. And barely a note of my baby daughter in any of them. Maybe there's a lot I don't know about my deep self. Reminds me how cosmically vast the unconscious can be. A thought that deserves the spacious song to contemplate along with.

Partial Arts — Telescope