“To sleep, perchance to dream- Ay, there’s the rub,
For in this sleep of death what dreams may come.” – Bill Shakespeare
I love sleeping because my dreaming life tends to be better then my waking life. My dreams are so imaginative, full of adventure, abound with mystery, whimsical, and interesting. Literally anything can happen, that is usually what does happen, anything. If I could remember my dreams more clearly and precisely, I could quit cooking and become a famous screenwriter.
The problem is, my dreams leave more of a feeling rather than a series of events. This eerie feeling can penetrate my entire day, leaving me with a strange sense of something being off, slightly skewed, not balanced. The feeling from the land of dreams crosses over into my real life, impacting me subtly.
Together these elements of action, strong story arc, and a lasting impression are the components to making a story spectacular, but like I said, the details drift away as soon as I come into consciousness. The more awake I become, the farther away the dream travels. If only I could write in a state of semi consciousness. But using you brain and thinking concretely draws you out of that imaginary playground, that space where the mind wanders uncontrolled and unabatedly.
I am not fascinated with the overall meaning of these strange and fairy tale like adventures, that is an entirely different cup of tea, one which does not fall under the realm of Marigold’s specialty. Dreams occur during REM sleep, a time when the brain is as active as it is while being awake. Is this why I wake up so tired every morning? Because my brain refuses to sleep like the rest of my body? You know how you are supposed to sleep on a decision? Well I wake up more confused, with too many ideas, too many solutions to a singular problem.