The Bridge of Skulls

The Bridge of Skulls is a regular motif in my dreams. It’s just a little bridge, not too fancy. Made of skulls, some femurs too. Perfectly normal bridge construction material in dream land.

Anyways, I had a dream a while back that was a poem. I couldn’t remember it exactly when I woke up, but I did write something similar down. I thought I’d lost it as it wasn’t in my dream diary (yes, I have a dream diary – it helps me separate dreams from reality) but just found it lurking in a folder on my laptop.

It’s quite pretentious, and far from refined, but it’s something I made and so I shall share it;


The Bridge of Skulls


I dreamt I was a princess.

Not an ingenue or Ophillia. Not a maiden or a damsel.

I dream I am a princess,

Bound in satin and velvet,

Layers of sumptuousness too decadent to function,

As I cross the bridge of skulls.

The surfaces are worn smooth, carefully constructed.

The surface does not trouble my pampered feet in their delicate slippers, as I try to run.

Away from riches!

Decry the King and Queen,

Their waste appals me, repels me.

I turn from it, proud of my defiance.

I dreamt I was a princess.

Now I wake,

Warm in crisp sheets of clean cotton,

Woven on the bridge of skulls.

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