The Museum

This poem originated from an actual dream I had when I was 6 or 7 yrs. of age. Memories of the dream have lasted into my adulthood and through reading about such events occurring with others, I also learned that these "premonition" types of dreams are rather common in children and makes one wonder why they are so in tune and why we lose that ability as we age. Whatever the reason or cause or factual basis, this poem stems from that and I hope you enjoy it.

Friday night

I had a dream

Of an old building;

Funny looking bike;

Skeleton in armor;

And a Civil War room,

Closed to visitors,

On the third floor.

Inside the room,

Nestled

Among plastic trees,

Miniature towns

Of various types

Were scattered

On plywood tables.

Some had stores,

Saloons and a church;

Others a few buildings,

Including general store

And livery stable.

Adjacent

Cannon-scarred battlefields,

Equal in variety,

Displayed Union and Confederate

Cast-iron soldiers

Relaxed around tent campsites;

Poised in lines for battle;

Or broken

And strewn about

On green felt grass,

Vividly depicting

The stark tragedy

Of war.

Saturday morning,

My older brother, John,

Took me

To the Historical Museum.

Never having been before,

I was stunned

When my eyes

Settled

On the bike

With huge front wheel,

Tiny one in back

And ladder-high seat.

In the next room,

A bony conquistador,

Complete with helmet

And breastplate,

Verified my dream

And I told

Of the Civil War room

On the third floor

And evoked a glare

From John,

The same look

He gave in my dream

As though

I’d lost my mind.

A curator,

Like in the dream,

Led the way upstairs,

And just as visioned,

He ignored

The “closed to visitor’s” sign

To the newly

Acquired addition,

Where to dubious stares,

I detailed the drama

Beyond the oak door,

Then John told me

To shut up

And the curator

Flashed a strange

Quizzical look.

We entered the room.

Constructed on plywood tables,

Precisely as described,

Miniature towns

Of various types

Gave witness

To cannon-dotted fields

As blue and gray soldiers

Silently fought

The Civil War.

                                             Chelle Munroe©

                                             January 16, 2014