Dream-making

Today I wear the round 
beaded earrings with fringed 
golden tassels my eldest
daughter got for me, made 
by women who live in Lake Sebu, 
famous for the T'boli weave 
they make called t'nalak— 
stripped abacá bark, organically 
dyed of bark and leaves, each 
ripply panel the equivalent 
of a chapter from a dream. 
I wonder what pattern 
I could pull from my own 
dreams, especially if 
I've forgotten about them 
as soon as I open my eyes.
I think everyone should be 
given a chance to make something 
tangible from a dream at least 
once: a recipe dictated in 
a dream, a dress with glorious 
detail they've only ever seen
in a dream. A mural or 
collage in which wild-
flowers open their mouths
like a choir to sing the most
unforgettable songs never  
heard by the human ear.