I'm at a high school, <br />or more likely the <br />community college, <br /> <br />and I'm part of the community, <br />though whether as teacher <br />or artist-in-residence or hanger-on <br />isn't made clear in the dream. <br /> <br />One day as I'm standing <br />out in a large field, <br />I see a delegation <br />of three professors from the English Department <br />on their way to talk to me. One <br />is a woman who mentored me once, <br />and I feel some closeness toward her. <br /> <br />They wear smiles, <br />but it's clear from the get-go <br />that their purpose is to ask me <br />to tone down my behavior and writing. <br /> <br />Before they've even finished asking, <br />I'm aware that they're so out of line <br />that the only way to 'speak truth to power' <br />in this case is to totally refuse <br />to even dignify their request <br />with any logical response. <br /> <br />In a minute I'm down on the ground <br />in just my underpants in front of them, <br />pounding my fists as a crowd gathers, <br />shouting, <i>'Don't take away <br />my poems! I need my poems! '</i> <br />like a child having a tantrum. <br /> <br />In the next scene, I'm in the school office, <br />sober with notebook in hand, <br />the clowning at an end, <br />having established its point, <br /> <br />an existential statement <br />celebrating freedom of expression, <br />consciously enacted for the students <br />for whom I know I'm a role model. <br /> <br />I wake from the dream as energized <br />as if I'd won the Pulitzer Prize.<br /><br />Max Reif<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/12aug5-the-poet-defends-his-integrity-in-a-dream/
