Fairy-tales do not exist

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Fairy tales do not exist
and cupids arrow will always miss.
The evil queen will always win
and every girl is filled with sin.

There’s no golden fleece to protect us all
no fairy godmother to stop your fall.
The birds don’t clean and cats don’t talk
and there’s no such thing as the perfect walk.

There’s no bread crumbs to find your way
and no fire breathing dragon for you to slay.
Hearts are real and cannibalism does exist
and there’s no such thing as the perfect kiss.

The emerald city and the world of oz are just a dream
and yes, people really are that mean.
Parlour tricks and a clever tongue
and no the spell won’t break with the morning sun.

Fairy tales do not exist
but I think I might
just take that risk.

Karen Hayward ©2015. Image downloaded via google

Reoccurring dreams.

It is said that reoccurring dreams are a trick designed by our subconscious that allows it to communicate with us. Our subconscious can explore themes freely as we dream, feeding, subliminally messages to us.
Recently my dreams have been plagued with repetition, I’m hopeful that by writing it here they will somehow start to make sense.

The church.
I walk toward the church and nothing seems out of place. The Our Lady of Light church is a stone’s throw from the beach and as I walk there I can hear the soft ebbing tide, taste the salt air. However when I get inside of the church it changes. It is still clearly catholic but suddenly  I am aware of another layer, a basement/ cellar, I want to go down there I am drawn to go down there but I get the feeling from the congregation I am wrong to want to go down there. I go down there anyway. But as of yet I cannot recall any details of what happens down there. But as I leave the Father softly squeezes my hands and smiles warmly at me.

I’ve never dreamed about shoes before and yet now they’re in just about every dream!! Last night I dreamed I had left my shoes on a bus to the airport  we had 20 seconds to get them, I decided to leave them and instead travelled bare foot.
I’ve also dreamed that I was wearing to black ankle boots, odd ones!

I keep dreaming that I very very almost miss my flight. The planes are never quite normal, this one looked much like a bus with wheels, sometimes they have no outer shell at all!!

I dreamt we had two moons in the sky, the soft white one we often seen in the daytime as well  as a darker more detailed moon, they sat in the sky together, next to one another. In this dream I was out with someone and they turned to me said this is one those moments, he then snapped a picture if it,  before turning the camera toward me to take a picture of us.

The house.
I have had many house dreams, the house represents us. In the past I have dreamt of the same house over and over with secret rooms but I always ended up in the loft/ attic. A room filled with books and pens and paper…I stopped having this dream as soon as I started on my path as a writer. But recently I have been dreaming of another house, again the same house each time, the same person in that house and always focused in the living room. The décor is muted, shades of brown, it’s not my house.

I have always been fascinated by dreams. As a young girl I had bad nightmares and I learned how to move from one dream into another. As I grew up I learned the art of lucid dreaming, a dream state that gives me far more awareness and control. I’m hopeful that by writing these dreams down my mind will now release them and I can go back to dreaming about being a spy :-).

Karen Hayward ©2016.

Sleep paralysis, frozen between worlds.

The heaviness pinning me against the bed. Eyes open I searched the darkness for my captor my eyes met only by the empty shadows. A scream, my scream, a high screech that penetrated where light particles refused to travel. No sound left my stilled body as I struggled against the unseen force holding me against my will. Nothing. With my eyes closed I slowly count, praying for the paralysis to release me, to let go its vice grip on me. My body aches, screaming against the heavy pressure of this unseen dream. Till suddenly I am without cover, my heart a rapid succession of broken beats and the shadows are falling upon me ready to relieve me of my soul. I cannot move and I feel the emptiness become me seeping into my heavy limbs my force ebbing away.

Karen Hayward ©2016

Nightmare within seconds of sleep.

I could still feel the soft fur of the teddy I had propped beneath my head as a makeshift pillow. I was slipping into darkness. I could feel the deep void pulling me forward as I fought to keep control over the slither of mattress I was precariously balancing on. A moment of triumph as I succeed through the haze of sleep. Then I am talking, I am typing, I am awake on the bed and in need of moving. The cover is suddenly pulled over my head and I am spun by unseen forces. I cannot break the cycle. I am dragged in circles beneath the covers in a desperate dark and I cannot move. I feel the gravity around me change as I am spun at speed. My heart beat rises and I repeat and repeat and repeat. This is not real. This is not real. I whisper in my mind to stay calm. This is not real, this is a dream. The spinning slows. I am able to move my fingers and toes as I pull myself from the void. I force my eyes to open. It was not real I whisper to myself as I quickly rise from the bed. This was not real.

Karen Hayward ©2016.

Why the banging!

You spoil my silence with your incessant voice,
a cat being strangled whilst you jump for joy.
Banging and jumping and so called singing too,
I wish I could record this, so you can listen to you.
Your voice is like poison
Addled with drink,
It penetrates through to the place where I think.
Your whoops and you screams
Seep curiously into my pleasant dreams.
Please let’s make an alliance,
you’re poisoning my precious fucking silence!

Universal electrons electrified in a catalyst of hope.

Whispers in the breeze of yesterdays thoughts
I dream of a sanity that I have often sought.
As I look to the skies for the light that shines north
and I think of the beauty left uncaught.
I dream of a day where humanity goes forth,
where loneliness is felt no more
and poverty is no longer a disease of the poor.
All this in the whisper of a breeze along the shore,
a knowing that I will one day arrive at that door.

Karen Hayward ©2015.

The sound of angelic bells against an ebbing tide.

Last night whilst my eyes were closed

and my mind shut down I dreamed

of the ocean. Clouds skirted above and

a grey hue hung from the air in crytalised

perfection. At first I stood alone,

just the grains of sand beneath my feet,

the damp mist at my skin and the soft

ebbing ocean that appeared to be stilled

and yet was simply moving in a low beat.

Then I saw her in the distance, laughing as

she ran in and out of the cool fresh ocean.

Droplets of water gently slipping through

the air and splashing, lovingly against her.

Her giggles of delight dancing across

the horizon, waltzing across the white

foam and cart wheeling across the shore.

I sat down and watched as she played at one

with the universe and the universe

played back.


Karen Hayward ©2015.

Jason’s coming for you.

Covered in blood I search for the light

as my dreams come alive in the dead of the night.

I feel his sharp nails as he claws at my skin

the veil between sleep is so very thin.

But Fred’s not alone, Jason’s, there too,

and I know in an instant my nightmares are true.

There’s no where to hide there’s no where to go,

covered in blood it’s a dream, oh I know.

But the nails are real, and Jason still comes,

and i’m losing my life as I try to out run.

A small little nick on my porcelain skin,

Freddy is dancing as the knife slips in.

They laugh as they pull gut after limb,

Tearing it out, pushing it in.

An ebbing death for fear to bring.

Karen Hayward ©2015.

The crimson Lake of Lust.

I will…

if you will.

I’ll show you the truth

with an honest account

of the days and the nights

that we no longer count.

I’ll bare you my soul the root

of my heart,

together we’ll find the

place where we start.

We’ll take down the walls,

and the flowerless thorns

burn up the halo’s

and put on our horns.

Together we’ll touch the essence

of life, the crimson vein

of beating souls deep in the

woods beneath the cleansing rain.

I will if you will, i’ll leap with my faith.

Blindly i’ll jump into the sensual lake.

I’ll give and i’ll give,

and you’ll take and you’ll take,

and memories of lust is what we

will make.