Dreamt in Dokki

[Stalker]

The spider laughed,
slipped a little here and there
as he danced
his furry feet
in the pools of sweat gathered
inside my head,
tap tapping against
the bare bones
of my nightmare,
like half-drowned morse
tossed around
on a rough pillow.

I had gone to sleep
in my own bed
and woken
elsewhere,
somewhen,
in the Golden Palace.

My name,
driftwood, flotsam,
an alluring memory
far from my grasp
smashed by the dark;
wrapped,
a cocooned fragment
dangles helpless
with the rest,
in cobwebs.

Sticky remnants to feed
endless fear.

There, in the Palace,
next to the Mosque,
dreams are punctured
by Adnan.
The word of God interrupts
spiders and pillows and men.
That song weaves
another dance
and a promise.

[serge gurkski]

I like the title because you use "dreamt" and not "dreamed". Not everyone, including myself before I enlightened myself, will know that dokki is a harbor. I read it and think: docks of the bay. They do have docks in Misr too!
I may well be wrong in interpreting the spider complete with his web as a nicely scarily extended metaphor for memories scarcely too nice to be true.
The chuckling spider made me think of The Cure's not really seriously haunting song. But as the poetess that stalks me knows: size matters.

enjoyed the read

[Leanne]

I really enjoyed the spirituality that runs through this poem. My interpretation (and it could well be different to your intention, I'm ok with that, meanings are transient) is that a false vision of the world has been lived for some time, seemingly strong and solid, but swept aside by Adnan -- and through Adnan, God -- to reveal the truth. The spider infests the dark corners, building structures of great beauty but without substance -- this is the waking world, with its bright lights and gilt coatings. False promise. The Golden Palace eludes me as all I can think of is the Lanka in Hindu myth (I need to read more), but my guess is that it represents genuine power. The name stanza reminds me greatly of Siddhartha by Herman Hesse, but also reinforces the idea that our existence in this world is fragile, especially when built on shaky foundations. The final stanza, with the song, brings the spider back to the forefront in my mind as I can't help thinking about Belloc's Tarantella -- the dance of insanity.

I enjoyed this greatly, and will return -- good poetry requires many readings and offers many meanings.

[billy]

Hi stalker, great write, and read. i'm guessing the dream is occurring in cairo or is about cairo, i say this because of Adnan and the mosque. after a few reads, i'm going to make an assumption (gulp) you either live in cairo or were visiting, and the golden palace is a hotel next to the mosque, where you were woken by people going to prayer. (the guy who shouts out from the tower.
i have no advice on changing anything, i see nothing that needs change. the dream feels to be less of a nightmare than you say in the poem. and more of a feeling of being lost. some really good images and it stands more than a good looking at. i'm thinking this is one of those poems that will work on many levels and i'm sure mine will be the weirdest
an excellent read
thanks.

The spider laughed,
slipped a little here and there
as he danced
his furry feet
in the pools of sweat gathered
inside my head,
tap tapping against
the bare bones
of my nightmare,
like half-drowned morse
tossed around
on a rough pillow.

I had gone to sleep
in my own bed
and woken
elsewhere,
somewhen,
in the Golden Palace.

My name,
driftwood, flotsam,
an alluring memory
far from my grasp
smashed by the dark;
wrapped,
a cocooned fragment
dangles helpless
with the rest,
in cobwebs.

Sticky remnants to feed
endless fear.

There, in the Palace,
next to the Mosque,
dreams are punctured
by Adnan.
The word of God interrupts
spiders and pillows and men.
That song weaves
another dance
and a promise.

[cidermaid]

As has been said by the others above, this is a fascinating poem that will draw the reader to re-visit and chew over.
In substance it brings to mind the cultural differences and appraisal of food, I discovered when I first visited China. What would be considered a good feed in the west – a lump of steak or a chicken breast… is described as dead meat in China….they prefer tasty little bits that they can roll around in their mouths and chew over. My first read of this and I did not really get it. Second read, I was caught by the idea of a tasty morsel…third read was the treat and I’m still chewing over it.

This is what your poem brought to my mind ...and Billy thinks his thought process is weird!
The spider laughed, As we have been told this is a dream, this brought to mind the cobwebs of our minds and as such the spider was taken as the voice or behaviour of the subconscious
slipped a little here and there - It is a dream after all and the mind is notorious for playing tricks on us.
as he danced - Yes this works...my mind dances all over the place
his furry feet - first of the chewy bits...why are the feet furry?...and his? - This influence is male. If I was genderising my subconscious I would probably make it male (as my brain is female and they bicker all the time!)
in the pools of sweat gathered - this still works for my application...have you any idea how hard it is to get my brain to do anything useful!
inside my head,
tap tapping against - and then there's that bloody subconscious voice nagging away
the bare bones
of my nightmare, - Ah, the nightmare...time for another chew over what it is this time.
like half-drowned morse - Again brings to mind the workings of the subconscious.
tossed around - first of the indicators for me that this is going to be a spiritual poem. (Standing firm in convictions V being tossed around by every whim and thought).
on a rough pillow. – if I allow my thoughts to continue on the same path from above, this becomes a rough and sleepless period - dark night of the soul = deep spiritual questioning. (or it could just be a manky pillow )

I had gone to sleep – continuing my spiritual journey
in my own bed – in the faith of my outer / visible convictions and upbringing.
and woken – had a (spiritual) crisis that brought me to a new awareness.
elsewhere, -
somewhen,
in the Golden Palace. – new chewy bit. What or where is the place / thing that holds my treasure?

My name,
driftwood, flotsam,
an alluring memory
far from my grasp
smashed by the dark;
wrapped,
a cocooned fragment
dangles helpless
with the rest,
in cobwebs. – Love all of this stanza. Blown around by every wind of change. Self examination. The true self is illuminated and seen for what it is.

Sticky remnants to feed
endless fear. – this brings me up short…(it’s those furry feet again I think!)

There, in the Palace,
next to the Mosque, - reference to the Muslim faith
dreams are punctured
by Adnan. – A figure / progenitor of the tribe of Arabs from northern Arabia (tradition suggests that Mohamed came from this line / tribe). So again an indicator that this is a deeply spiritual poem.
The word of God interrupts
spiders and pillows and men.
That song weaves
another dance
and a promise.
- the reference to the Muslim faith / Mohamed does not detract or add to the bias of this piece in my opinion. Throughout it can be taken as an ambiguous piece that allows the reader to take a position of faith from either / any point of reference. For this reason I feel that this is a very well crafted piece and it is this aspect that allows the reader from any walk or persuasion to revisit this repeatedly and follow their “spiders” on many different paths.
Great read thanks for sharing. AJ.

[Stalker]

well goodness me what great reactions!! - thanks so much for all your feedback - helpful and interesting.

I am not going to go into the specifics that led to this. Merely I say that you each interpret it as had intended and the root of the allegory is probably not important. Spiders? well they symbolise many things don't they? intrigue, terror, power. For me the most obvious symbol for them that is of the messenger reminding us that the choices we make have consequences., cidermaid characterises this as subconcious, which is also true.

Simply I suppose there are many messengers in life, those that get our attention , those we are forced to hear, noisy ones, silent ones. Of course the message we recieve will always be modifed by our point of view, transient as that may be.

aren't spiders furry? i always think of them like that, tarantulas and baboon spiders, all furry and weird.

thanks again

StalkeR

[heslopian]

An intriguing and even suspenseful fantasy poem. I read it like I would a prose story: with an eagerness to know what happens next. The opening verse presents a powerful, almost horrific image. There's something chilling about the spider's tap dance, as if he's attempting to communicate with Morse (needs a capital letter, I've discovered by running this comment through a spell checker) some necessary message, or maybe a spell which transports the narrator to the other place. The image of a spider dancing in the narrator's head could have been unintentionally funny, as if you were saying that he's so empty-headed insects have nested, so to make it chilling and thought-provoking is an achievement.
The use of "somewhen" in verse two was clever and effective; I don't often see that word. In verse three could a colon go after "name", to indicate that everything else in that verse is a metaphor for what the narrator's name has become? Also, instead of the semi-colon after "dark", you could stay in tense by replacing it with a comma and "dangles" with "dangling", just to bolster consistency within the verse. I'm not sure the following couplet ("sticky remnants ... endless fear") is needed. It's really just an extension of verse three, and as such is slightly overkill.
Verse five is an excellent close. I especially enjoyed these lines: "The word of God interrupts/spiders and pillows and men". It paints an elegant picture of holiness disturbing banal daily life which reminds of certain passages in Flannery O'Connor's stories. Critique is JMHO, thank you for the read