Sleeping and Dreaming

The Incubus’ Flash-light
He looked inside my head
And found a dream
He didn’t like—;
As I looked back at him,
I found an incubus
Shinning a light
(and stole this poem from
(Him—last night.)

Thoughts: Dreams and Poetry: in dreams we let go of our inhibitions; in poetry we write them back out. Some seem to be divine messages, while others seem more like satanic nightmares. Be that as it may, they are the gateway to our: fears, wishes and desires. Our brains remain active during sleep, thus some of us can plant an alarm clock within our system, and into our dreams.
During our dream states, muscle tone is nil (our bodies become paralyzed). Why? Well, if not, would you really like to act out your dreams? Not me, I’d end up on the floor swimming the ocean, or flying to another country without a plane.
It might be of interest to some: animals dream, just watch their eyes, but why? You might be asking, and that would be a good question; there are a few reasons. First, they are vulnerable, and yes, it is as it should be, part of the elimination process so other animals can eat. Second, cold blooded animals (reptiles) get energy from the sun, and thus at night, have very little; while warm blooded animals get it from food, and other ways to conserve energy, and sleep is one of the ways, like us humans. Hence, sleep requires dreaming, and sleep gives energy. And animals need time to sort out strategies for survival, I would expect.
So I must ask myself: what dreams or memories are worthy of being a poem? For our brain—during sleep—sorts out the things worthwhile putting into our memory banks, and throwing away the rest. If not we’d have a big head, with a lot of useless-knowledge. Out of the #642 poems I’ve written, about 20% came out of dreams; and likewise with my 150-short stories, and some 40-longer stories. So I can thank my sleeping and dreaming, for giving much of my daily writings.

Note: #640, 5/10/05. Written while at the bookstore, coffee shop, in Roseville, Minnesota, USA