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The Scream - a Derealization moment
Posted: 18 April 2012
Word Count: 263
Summary: I'm really not sure whether this poem succeeds. I won't give any explanations yet, but wait and see if it works for you.
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The Scream
A derealization moment
I heard the Scream
As I looked without reason
out of my window
I heard the Scream
Lamp-post with two
dwarf arms under a ring
a lamp within the ring
a crown on top
House opposite
sand-pebble walls
dish like an ear
Cloud-foothills grey
against scarcely blue
Then some-
thing else all turned
into something
else not
the real
lamp-
post not the real
house oppo-
site, but a water-
colour a photo-
graph a street
in ano-
ther
pro-
vince
or a dream
I could not walk
over and touch
the lamp-post
it would not
be there
I was not
in the world
and I heard the Scream
But presently
although the sand-
hue of the pebble-dash
did not lighten or darken
or alter its texture
for no reason
I believed again
the lamp in its ring
would be hard and cold
I could walk outside
not drown in the melted street
This melting of the real
into a phantasm
I understood then
was the trick of a fear
not a singular fear
but a common fear
In the next minute
I might shut down
a spate of blood
might all at once
turn knowing into
into
but
the house opposite
would still be there
Why should it
still be there?
Why should
the lamp still
light at dusk?
The Scream was not
in the cloud-hills
it was heard only
in the parish
behind my eyes
Ask any passer-by
there was nothing but
a horn somewhere
and a jackdaw’s croak
Ah, it was only
fear of death
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Comments by other Members
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 Dave Morehouse at 22:43 on 18 April 2012
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James - Each of us deals with our tenuous grasp on mortality. Some people dream of falling, some of being pursued, and at least one person dreams of the Death's Scream. I like the linking of your dream world and the real world using the lamp post and the sand pebble house as signposts on the narrator's journey in and out. They bookend the dream well in my opinion. (Unless I have it completely wrong.) For many the fear of death increases as they edge closer to it. I am reminded of a 'foxhole conversion' type moment when he realizes the post and house are once again real. Still, the fear of dying hangs about his head. Nicely done, Dave.
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Dave Morehouse at 15:24 on 26 April 2012
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| P.S. I'm sure you know this already, but the poem was partly 'inspired' by the painting 'The Scream' by Edvard Munch. |
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You give me too much credit James. While it's true that I am familiar with the painting and it exhorbitant monetary value I didn't make the obvious connection until you pointed it out. Head full of batting on my part. 
I interpreted your poem as one who slips in and out of a genuine dream state and thought it worked wonderfully. Now that I understand what you were trying it works even better.
| You're briefly convinced that the scene you're looking at is not solid but an image (or something like a dream). It's a devil to express in words, and I don't think the poem does it. |
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Disagree. I think you do it quite well when I reread and know what I am looking for. Perhaps an italicized parenthetic reference to derealization disorder after the title would help?
Ask any passer-by
there was nothing but
a horn somewhere
and a jackdaw’s croak
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This is outstanding closure for this particular episode of the MC's disorder. Well done. Dave
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 James Graham at 11:57 on 27 April 2012
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Hi Dave - I've added a subtitle. Originally I had some lines within the poem, more or less explaining derealization, but they seemed too prosaic. This subtitle is not bad - lightens the whole thing a little, maybe.
Just the two of us active at the moment, it seems?
James.
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Dave Morehouse at 12:09 on 27 April 2012
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The subtitle does it fine for me now. I wonder how it will work for first time readers? My guess is much better. I certainly can see the poem getting bogged down with an explanation of the disorder written into the stanzas. It would be nearly impossible to do without breaking the fine sense of rhythm that you have built into this piece.
| Just the two of us active at the moment, it seems? |
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Yes. Is that common? I hope it isn't something I said or the fact that I haven't showered regularly this week. Later, Dave.
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James Graham at 12:44 on 27 April 2012
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I sometimes wonder if it's something I've said. But no, it just happens sometimes.
James.
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 V`yonne at 11:14 on 28 April 2012
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I liked the dwarf images - very frightening that. It takes us to another world and it is a world of unsettled dreams, imaginings - felt rather like one of my panic attacks!
The first stanza repetition gives us a hint of the senselessness but I thought maybe revise this line:
| As I looked for no reason |
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to
| As I looked without reason |
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?
I liked the way you took that scream on down the poem too.
I really liked the way this tapered to a halt -
Then some-
thing else all turned
into something
else not
the real
lamp-
post not the real
house oppo-
site, but a water-
colour a photo-
graph a street
in ano-
ther
pro-
vince |
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becoming more disjointed all the time - an atrophe of thought - a kind of fearful paralysis one want to think or move but can't.
The many images of dusk and parish, phantasms fears and blood feed the reader with that fear of death - common indeed! As
... any passer-by can attest.
And this horn calling and the jackdaw - both marvellous - last trump and last laugh.
there was nothing but
a horn somewhere
and a jackdaw’s croak
and croak
I love this actually. It's a gothic fantasy worthy of master Poe.
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James Graham at 16:07 on 28 April 2012
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Thanks, Oonah. Glad you liked so much about this poem, especially that tapering-off, hyphenated bit. It seems rather an elementary verse technique, splitting words and narrowing down lines, but sometimes it can be effective.
Maybe you (and Dave, who has also commented) could tell me if this is a better ending - if indeed it makes any difference.
Ah, it was only
fear of death
Ask any passer-by
there was nothing but
a horn somewhere
and a jackdaw’s croak |
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James.
<Added>
You're right about that line, and I've changed it to 'without reason'.
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Dave Morehouse at 17:34 on 28 April 2012
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Both are fine. I would prefer the original version. For me, there is power and closure in that final admission. My $.02, Dave.
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V`yonne at 23:17 on 28 April 2012
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Best end on James in my opinion. It has more finality and gravity than 'croak' which could be regarded as humour.
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James Graham at 11:41 on 02 May 2012
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Kirsty, thanks for such a thoughtful comment. What you write about in 'Parts' is familiar, especially these lines:
On the front steps
a glass bottle sits
like a threat |
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everything is made
of something else |
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which I recognise at once.
I've never read 'The Lion...' but it's interesting to discover a coincidence like this, something unintended. As you say, the poem isn't about other worlds, the sort of thing that happens to a character in fantasy fiction who slips into a parallel dimension. But the 'derealization moment' is not unlike that, and I don't mind it having that association.
I was unsure of this poem because the experience seemed so hard to put into words. At first there seemed no language for it. But I've more confidence in it now.
| But in the end the poem comforts - ah this, it's nothing strange, just fear of death, that old fear we all have and must have. |
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Glad the sigh of relief came across - relief that it's only fear of death.
Thanks again, this was very helpful.
James.
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 TessaF at 20:49 on 02 May 2012
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Hi James
Sorry to have not been on in ages - I seem to have got swallowed up by the real world for a while.
I heard the Scream
As I looked without reason
out of my window
I heard the Scream
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I like the way the Scream encloses the middle two lines of that first stanza - it's very claustrophobic and certainly sets the mood. It's a very eerie, creepy poem with some surreal imagery. I think I found it even more disturbing when I read your description of what derealisation actually is!
When I got to this part Cloud-foothills grey
against scarcely blue |
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it reminded me of the lucid dreams I used to have when I was younger and invariably the reason I knew I was in a dream was that the colours were never quite right - that's what this line reminded me of anyway. The reason for me saying this is because your poem is almost like the very opposite of a lucid dream (my dreams were actually very banal but it felt like being in a parallel universe so quite scary at the same time).
I think you have planted some very disconcerting images throughout your poem and I found I was almost holding my breath as I was reading it, rather like when I was a child reading Baba Yaga or Grimm's fairytales(not the sugared Disney versions).
A few morsels are - I don't know why I find that image so scary, but definitely the 'melted' and 'melting' images also and of coursebut a water-
colour a photo-
graph a street
in ano-
ther
pro-
vince
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- our modern day soul snatcher.
You said you do not know if this poem works but I think it absolutely does. What a poem to come back to!
T
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