Do our dreams teach us in sleep what it is to feel dread, joy and love whilst we are awake? Or is it, do you think, the reality of living our daily lives with fear, hatred, happiness and love, that shapes our dreams?
When we dream, we dream of simple things, of innocence: of sanctuary from the chaos of realities: of justice: of revenge: of lust, sex, death and murder. In dreams, we may be transported to a topsy-turvy place where unearthly wisdom is delivered through the beak of a disgruntled parrot perched in a tree stitched at the seams with wool.
On waking, for the first few moments, the actuality of being alive remains suspended, yet even in that semi-conscious state the body continues to prepare itself for the rigours of the live-long day: limbs stretch to prepare for gravity: lips flex and pucker for kissing and articulating desires: fingers uncurl for rubbing and scratching, they are the tools of our trade: our eyes wink, blink, tinker with shapes in the folds of sheets and shadows. Finally and miraculously, our human heart grows larger, only by a few millimetres, nevertheless it is swollen by an increased flow of refreshed blood.
As the mechanics of waking progresses, questions always remain: why do we dream? What do they mean?