blank blank fullness

photography, shots slide across the screen for a crowd to see
sitting smiling peacefully with a monument, its magnitude of beauty- focused centrally
in the corner, reclining with the scene
a face, my face
then 4 pairs of legs walk across a stage
scrutinizing two mojoin pins, removed from my possession
with a pair of eyes, and a single lens
and hundreds of others viewing past-present tense 
vacation shots of a life
lived spontaneously
this photographer, where did he come from
we ran into him on the street
at an intersection of time gone by in the windshield,
spinnin round a traffic circle eye
from where he began to follow me
questioning the playbacks
does he see what I see?
and from the crowd a man, seemingly a professor
professed this love to me:
the id doesn't like it when a mirror's not around
try to sleep without one 
see if you can stand your ground
so of course upon my waking,
I realize the space, blank
thereupon my childhood bedroom wall where one had hung, now displaced
then spoke a need to see this id encased
according to a Freudian kind of studied taste
but right before I rose up and out
from the cacophony of the raw
a boy in this dream I know asked me, please
make me anxious tonight
I have some work proposals that I need to write
my dreaming id understood it perfectly
over-seeing this unknown churning underbelly
catharsis dream-work delivered intentionally