Awake All Night

When I sleep, my mind doesn't just shuffle through odd fragments of whatever crossed my path during the day, or dredge up frightening images that jolt me awake. I go to work. I spend the night surrounded by people, busy with tasks, and the whole thing stretches on from dusk to morning. Some would call this lucid dreaming. Whether I actually finish anything in there, I couldn't tell you.

The flying is the part I look forward to. I levitate, I drift through the air, and I'll admit I like an audience for it, because the other people populating my dreams can't pull it off the way I can. A little showing off never hurt anyone.

Dreams get brushed aside by a lot of folks. Push the question and most will concede that people dream, even the ones who never hold onto a single image by morning. Still, there's a camp convinced that dreams carry no real meaning, that chasing them down and picking them apart is a waste of an afternoon.

I don't buy it. If things happen for a reason, dreams happen for a reason too. Shrugging them off strikes me as roughly the same as insisting that the ability to smell does nothing for us at all.

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