[the Writing of Kuypers]    [JanetKuypers.com]    [Bio]    [Poems]    [Prose]

Order this iTunes track from the poetry audio CD Hope Chest In The Attic 13 Years of Poetry & Prose ...Or order the entire CD set from iTunes:

Listen to a live track off the CD and performance art show Dreams (02/03/04)

Enjoy this YouTube video of Janet Kuypers reading her poem “The Dream” (3:46) from the 2/3/04 “Dreams” show in Chicago (this video was posted on Facebook, Twitter, Linkedin, Pinterest, Instagram, and Tumblr). #janetkuypers #janetkuyperspoem #janetkuyperspoetryshow #janetkuypersinstagram

Watch this YouTube video (3:40) of Janet Kuypers reading her poem “The Dream” from the television screen broadcast from the 2/3/04 “Dreams” show in Chicago (this video was posted on Facebook, Twitter, Linkedin, Pinterest, Instagram, and Tumblr).

See YouTube video 7/17/16 of Janet Kuypers reading her poems White Knuckled from her book Rape, Sexism, Life & Death, One who Has Too Much from the cc&d July/August 2017 issue v264 book Being Real, and The Dream at the Austin open mic Kick Butt Poetry (w/ a Canon Power Shot).

See YouTube video 7/17/16 of Janet Kuypers reading her poems White Knuckled from her book Rape, Sexism, Life & Death, One who Has Too Much from the cc&d July/August 2017 issue v264 book Being Real, and The Dream at the Austin open mic Kick Butt Poetry (w/ a Sony camera).

See YouTube video of Janet Kuypers 1/7/18 reading her poems “He Told Me His Dreams 4” & “The Dream” & her prose “A Dream About Murder” from her book “When you Dream Tonight” live at “Recycled Reads” (this video filmed from a Panasonic Lumix 2500 camera).

See YouTube video of Janet Kuypers 1/7/18 reading her poems “He Told Me His Dreams 4” & “The Dream” & her prose “A Dream About Murder” from her book “When you Dream Tonight” live at “Recycled Reads” (Panasonic Lumix 2500 camera; Edge Detection).

The Dream I walked past the slide almost stepping on the boulder in a children’s marble game. As I stopped at the swing set, I heard two girls talking. Slap bracelets, plastic purses, bows in their hair. The blue-eyed blonde said to the brown-eyed brunette, “If you dream that you die, you will.” Those brown eyes exploded with fear. As I walked away, I stopped and leaned against the jungle gym. The memories bombarded me-- Why did I have that dream? Why did I stop myself? Why didn’t I die? It was four years ago. I was walking in a field where the brown weeds stood a foot tall, almost entirely covering the wretched, abandoned train tracks. The pollution-grey sky occasionally hurled its anger at the ground, making rippling waves in the dead grass and straw. I never asked why I was there. Holding my denim jacket closed with one hand I put my left hand in the coat pocket. I felt the cold steel in my hands and pulled the .22 pistol out into the light. The polished silver-grey barrel reflected my fingerprints. I never asked why it was there. I stopped walking, switched off the safety, turned the gun toward my stomach, wrapped my finger around the trigger, pressed my eyes shut, and fired twice. But I opened my eyes and stared at the waving weeds as I felt the heat and the force radiate through me. As I stood there, I began to hunch over and all of my senses slowed down. The weeds moved slowly, and as I started to walk, my steps became shorter, yet longer to take. Feeling dizzy, I couldn’t even think. But I knew it should hurt, and I waited for the pain, but I just wasn’t dying fast enough. So I tried to keep walking, but it felt like I was falling, and I turned the revolver to my stomach again and fired. I felt the jolt. I felt the force. I felt the heat. But it just wasn’t working. I just wasn’t dying. So I moved the gun to the side of my head. One shot rang out. My ears were ringing --- slowly but violently. Why wasn’t I dying? I shot at the temple again, and once more. Walking, slowly, now used to the heat and only feeling tired. Then a voice in my head told me to stop the dream and I woke up. Beads of sweat dripped down from my temple. I tasted them to make sure it wasn’t blood. I pushed myself away from the jungle gym as I watched the girls on the swing set. The brunette stared at the blonde in innocent amazement. They’re all just lies. I turned around and walked away, kicking the dead grass. Copyright Janet Kuypers. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission.

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