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When we sleep, we theoretically, apparently, wrecklessly, waywardly, buried-in-our-unconscious-ly dream. And, on most mornings, I am lucky to have an image of some random scene in my mind, or a collection of stray moments from said dreams, which are joined together like beads on a necklace, linked with the string of my brain's wandering thoughts.
But, this morning, I woke up from an odyssey of vivid experiences very close to the surface of my mind: hiding out in the upper tiers of gym to get away from some Matrix-esque “bad guy”; then, escaping through the ceiling in one of my convenient dream-skills of “digging” through ceilings and roofs; catching up with my gym hide-out pals after walking a path and then alerting a Mom and her four children to the smoke coming out of their kitchen; next, somehow the police having to separate two feuding vagrants in the neighborhood as they happened to be arguing as the fire trucks arrived; then, teaching about transitions with a clip of barrels in “Donkey Kong Kountry”. Also in there was a bus trip with writing project people and some stressor that I can't even remember now.
As I began to write, I couldn't help but hear Cake's "When you sleep..." in my head, and figure that our brains are such powerhouse-warehouses of whatever we can glean from environmental, academic, social, spiritual, physical, etc. experiences that no wonder my mind - and all of yours, too - plays; and, story-tells; and, sometimes, worries; and reunites with friends I haven't seen in a years. Dreams are gifts we unconsciously give ourselves.