dead, but dreaming

by A.P. Sweet

No one truly knows what happens when you die. I am dead. This is my story. Our dreams have plagued us since we could remember what we dreamed about the night before. There are numerous theories about what they are and what they are for and no one has it right. There is no universal theory to it. They are what we want them to be. This is how I found out that I was dead. These stories are presented in an epic poem form and they are based on the Kübler-Ross cycle of grief. Each poem deals with a certain aspect of that cycle. I hope that they will help you when it's your time to go. Do you know where you will go when it's time? Would you want to know?

Genres: Poetry, Fiction

88 pages, Paperback

First published March 20, 2011

About the author

The only formal training I have ever received for writing is what I found in the words of other authors. I write what I feel is true to me. I hold no degree in literature. I only hold the key to my mind.

My goal is to disregard criticism and embrace creativity at all times.

Reviews

[Stuart · Rating 5 out of 5]

dead, but dreaming is a fantastic book of short poems each dealing with a differnt person in a differnt situation. I recomand reading only one poem at a time and giving your mind a chance to understand what it has just read. Death and Dream are connected to all humans as we will experience them at one time or another. This book left me wondering what is the difference betwen these two forces.

[Julie Witte · Rating 5 out of 5]

The author has a way of transporting you right into the moment; The wetness of the ocean, the coppery taste and scent of blood, the boiling of a storm cloud, the blinding light of morning sun. Most importantly the pain of rejection, the actual ache in the heart from grief. I feel richer since reading this first book...I havent visited my own dark thoughts in so long, I had almost forgotten. But not quite. No, not quite. I recommend this poetic undertaking to anyone who isnt afraid to re-visit the shadows hiding in all of our hearts, as well as the scars. This is a book that I will return to for years to come, it is on my Top Shelf and a Favorite.

[Serena · Rating 4 out of 5]

In compliance with FTC guidelines, I have won this book through the Goodreads Giveaways.

My Rating System:
* couldn't finish, ** wouldn't recommend, *** would recommend, **** would read again, ***** have read again.

[Pixie · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is one of the best poetry stories I have read to date. I could feel what the author felt and the descriptions were so vivid I could see everything unfold. Great writing!

[Jacqui · Rating 5 out of 5]

Memorable Quotes

“I wrote because of their inability to nurture me. I wrote to conceal the truth that life was filled with pain and that true beauty could only come from that pain. I wrote to simply disguise that pain.”

“And now that this body is gone and has been returned to the Earth, I assure everyone that psychic energy doesn’t die, it is recycled throughout the universe and will out live anything that we do as living beings. Flesh will decay, ideas won’t as long as you believe in them and someone believes in you.”

“My thoughts are with you all. Forever conscious of the vast, absurd universe and writing my eternal story I shall remain dead, but dreaming.”

“I cry as the laughter inside me drowns
and descends
into the water
with the ghosts of our union.”

“I want to towel off, leave my heart on this beach and
walk the sand into a lake
of stars, while never looking back.”

“And like my comrades, I too have
tasted the bittersweet
assurance that I
would be okay with myself.
And like so many others
out there, I have given that
dream away to the wind
and its power over the trees.”

“For this nirvana, I willingly
give in to the numbness of
my wrist.”

“I cry often.
I cry and cleanse my
face with my tears and
swim to the center
of it all.
A center that
I have written about a
thousand times, forever etched
into the porcelain.”

“Her eyes burn like
a match head striking
my flesh with ferocity
and precision to ignite
the night with a divinorum induced
dream.”

“Then, only then
would she realize that the life
that she created will extinguish with
nothing to offer but the sorrow that she
harvested in our souls and the holes that she dug
in our hearts.”

“Sometimes at night
when the moon is almost
full and my hands go
numb from writing, I cleanse
myself of her poisoned love.
I welcome the water, the
inevitability of
death and embrace
the long painful road out
of love.”

“Blood and wine are interchangeable.
Love and hate are unrecognizable.
Sanity is no longer with me.”

“I kiss the soil as
if it is the last time I will recognize
the beauty she has given the trees.”

“Caress me sister wind
and stop this hate.”

“I sense him smiling
and laughing and looking at me
with eyes of a thousand aborted children
coming back to rightfully
claim their life, to claim the earth.”

“I spread my fingers outward,
letting the knife tip of my
middle finger rip the sky as
it tares a rift in the moon.”

“And if I consume another
mortal’s flesh, will I like
god before me, shit a million stars upon
the naked, wretched sky?”

“Out here,
the open night is my church,
the trees are my congregation,
the stars are my angels and
the moon is the only god that I know.”

“And I would give my
self to this light just to have my
brother and mother
by each
other’s side. I would
swim back to the
ocean
and birth a creature
of acceptance; I would if it let me.
I would give it all away.”

“I would give my lungs to the fish so
that they may rise out of the water
and feel the wind.”

“I would give my heart to the religious so
that they may realize that god
hates us all.”

“Leave me to die a lonely death.
An artist’s death.
A writer’s playground.
A painter’s background.
A philosopher’s bread and butter.
An endeavor that we
all face. I just hope that
I’m not the only one
there.”

“The moon makes love
to the ocean
and
in this holy conception it gives birth
to a little tide.”

“I’ll search and I’ll find her again
even if I have to swim in my own tears.”

“I rise from the moist crevice of thought,
I beat on the shores of her holy body,
I fall from the sky in silver sheets of sadness.
Rise onto me my precious sun.”

“Sadness is a moment
in which the world took something
from you.
Depression is a lifetime
of torment
no matter what is said or done.”

“We make our own music.
We paint our own future.”

“A good student learns from his teacher.
A great student learns to teach himself.”

“Because without the lows, the highs would
seem pointless.”

“We learn
that all life
is scarce yet abundant.
Profane yet
sacred.
Loving
yet hateful.
Enlightened
yet obscured.
Isolated yet
collective.
That life is
somehow derived from love.”

[Anais919 · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a first-reads I won through goodreads for an honest review.

This is book of poetry about death using the Kuber-Ross model of grief as the guide. The five stages are denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Each section uses these aspects of grief over ones own death. I loved this book! The descriptions were rich, vivid, and very dream like. I would recommend this as a bed time read (I could stop thinking about it!). Not a cure of insomnia!

To anyone who loves poetry (more should) this is a must read!