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Prompt: Pictographs on a 2000 year old pot seem to describe the day you see it in the museum

A hallucination. Birds followed you,

Through the house, made you spill

Your cereal.

Mid-morning breaks the day,

A woman in robes comes by to meet you.

Wordlessly, staff in hand,

Giving a supple bow,

And sea-blue ring.

She takes the birds

That followed.

1:53pm: you're taking notes now.

The bricks under the patio,

They're rising, the ground

Shrinks away.

Restless on the porch,

Hands moving with memory

Carve a subtle figurine

In a stick of firewood.

You know it's mad,

The notes you have,

Still you see a librarian

You talk to every week.

Surprised again,

She doesn't know you.

At the museum, to cast off the panic,

Portraits of the greats hang down,

But one pot is most confusing:

Clearly made by a master,

Attribution complete.

It bears your name as author,

Shouts the day to you.

Stepping round the pot,

Watching the curve.

3:15pm:

Done writing. No time to lose.