Buildings

I often dream about being lost in huge buildings.
These buildings I dream of have have beauty interior,
although they possess exterior protected by weathered brick.
Some buildings, however, are crumbling, and
sometimes I am in them as they are being demolished.
I am standing in the buildings, observing celebration,
such as the graduation of my inner child; or conflict,
such as my battle between happiness and depression.
I dreamed last night that I was in a building, lost,
but familiar with the place I once learned how and what.
I dreamed of clothes and plush toys, and losing consciousness.
I dreamed of the protection inside the building
as the quirky man ran over to catch my fragile body
before it was able to hit the cold concrete ground-
eyes fluttering as patterns of triangles on blue walls
captured my attention- and his distorted and blurry voice
asking if I was okay, and if I had been so tired that I was not aware
that I was sitting in only the highest chair, looking up, up, up.
I dreamed of clothes and plush toys, and finally getting help.
I dreamed of the people around me, holding me close,
while I cried that my life was in shambles and I couldn't take any more-
slowly walking with a friend, a mentor, who taught me to use
the voice that had so unexpectedly been accepted, although
I was still afraid it wasn't good enough for projecting- and
love filled the building as the long letters of recommending assistance
with the inner mechanisms of my mind and dirty clothes
and scattered plush toys and patterns of walls and crumbling buildings
and buildings already gone and new buildings rising and dreaming-
I woke up- and remembered everything about what it means
to care for the little girl and care for the big girl that is I.

-LJ
23 October 2016