One Hundred Black Bears

a poem about bipolar mania

Photo by Jake Weirick on Unsplash

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I'm constantly losing things:
my wallet, my phone, my keys.
I even lose my eyeglasses
so right now I'm wearing

an old pair that I found in
a junk drawer. I've lost
people whom I thought were
friends. I've lost romantic

love. And I've lost my mind.
I've hallucinated. Driving
through the pine forest
one night, I saw black bears

standing on their hind legs
as I passed by. Not just two
or five. Not just fifteen
or twenty. No, I saw dozens

of bears lined up roadside
like the crowd at a parade.
In the old days, after 
I'd revealed my vision,

my tribe would've given me
a name like Many Bears.
But, now, as I rue & rue
my bipolar mania, I'd say

that my name is Too Many
Bears because I don't want
to hallucinate even one
bear, let alone dozens.

But I do want to know
what bears might signify 
in dreams so I ask Google
"What does it mean

to dream about bears?"
And I find Jungian
theories that tell me
that I'm those bears—

that those bears are 
representative of my
subconscious—of my 
overt masculinity—

of my territorial 
paternity— and I find
theological beliefs
that bears are symbols

of God—of a female
creator—of maternity—
of a mama fiercely protecting
her cubs—and I find

a Freudian who believes
that bears are healers inside
our dreams. Bears hibernate,
says the Freudian, so bears

are about spiritual renewal.
And I find a cognitive
therapist who posits that,
in dreams, a bear's meaning

depends on the dreamer.
So, after my research, 
I guess that my hallucinated
bears were hundreds

of fathers, or hundreds
of Gods, or hundreds
of mothers, or hundreds
of priests, or hundreds

of wild versions of me.
In any case, as I drove
out of the rural dark
and into the city light,

those hallucinated bears
dwindled in number
until there were no bears
at all. I carefully traveled

to my hotel, took a shower,
and laughed as I wondered
if there was a water source
that was hot enough to burn

my manias and depressions
away. Then I called my wife
and we gave our good nights.
As I lay in bed, I wished

there was a cure for what
possesses me here and there.
I cried a little then fell asleep.
I didn't dream about bears.

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