The new Amsterdam

I dreamt of an AfricanGermany with a woman, a deity of the darker side of things. natural and of death. But she was celebrated and we were outsiders. We couldn’t study her in their books or walk up to her alters. She started with a “K” and was full of secrets and yellow orange green red colors all separated like farming fields from the air. I wanted to know her and discover her – but i was an outsider.

So I went to Amsterdam and it became another planet. sitting on street corners the stars flung into the sky like a child’s art project – no sense of when to stop glittering- and I could see the sky rotate above me full not of just stars, but of islands – green and fuzzy mossy islands. There was culture here and football they played in the forest with big dark thick trees and old-time bikes and I couldn’t quite speak the language only bits, but they spoke mine and I was starting to understand the foreignness of my new land.  I was in comfort. I had family friends. One good friend who opened to me like poppies. She was a blonde white light with teeth. I would never leave and i would eat food covered in soft white cream forever.

I woke up and knew the new world was writing.

So I bid my adieu old world – lackluster and stale because things are opened and never closed. No one ever says goodbye anymore. I saw and old old friend in the dream that I don’t talk to anymore and she asked me if I followed her there (she was only buying souvenirs from the souvenir shop – she wasn’t staying) and I laughed did a chicken dance in front of her and said “yeah, I’d come all the way to Amsterdam just because you were here.”

I got here myself and I’m staying.