Every once in awhile I get a feeling

that washes over me

out of nowhere.

It has the remnants of some otherness

sticking all over it. 

I honestly think it is a faint memory

in my cells

of last night’s dreams.

But I cannot for the life of me

recall what it was.

As if the neurons fire

and the acrid trace of the action

crackles to a bit of life,

but no image is connected.

Only a faint feeling,

and it is so withered

that I cannot identify what the feeling

feels like.

It is gone.

as soon as I think it. 

I guess,

this is what the subconscious

might feel like.

But I don’t think

the subconscious normally harkens awake

in this manner.

No wonder we all shove it back down

with this kind

of painful reminiscence.

One that is so incomplete,

that we want to beat it back

to the pulpy transmitter

that brought it up from the neuron

in the first place.

Because it is better off there

than having a partial life

dangling

at the synapse.