My inquisitive daughter asked me this evening, “Why must we sleep?” That led to my thoughts on how much more I could get done if I didn’t have to surrender to the dark each night and lapse into an eight hour coma. True, I would have more time to write, and read. To clean and think. To have adventures and finally pick up my guitar and stick with it. But, then the horror struck as I realized I would be part of a world with no dreams. No way to settle in for the night and know that anything was possible as my R.E.M cycle set out on it’s own subconscious path. I have had more dreams than I will ever be able to count in my life. Some haunted me, and roused me from my slumber. The visions still carved into my brain like a scar, taunting me that I was capable of creating such vivid horrors. Some seem to disappear, leaving behind the faintest trace of a memory, like a clue, beckoning me to unravel the mystery. While others fulfilled my deepest desires and awakened a power that I thought was slipping away. The dreams where you finally are truthful, where you meet your hero, or even better, you are the hero. The dreams that ignite such joy in your soul that you carry that happiness with you throughout your day, smiling for no reason and feeling refreshed and renewed.
So I have accepted that I do not need to feel immortal by shunning the sleep that my body so desperately asks for. I have accepted and embraced it. Looking forward to that moment when I peel the covers back and slip in between the cool crisp sheets.
For to dream, what an adventure that would be.