The World at Night

Standard
Dreams seems to exist in their own world for most, but for me it’s difficult to separate them from reality. I dream in 100% living, vivid color. Until I was about 20ish I didn’t realize that this wasn’t the norm. I read somewhere once that the average person reported dreaming in grey scale or muted colors. But in talking to most of my friends (and I keep some odd but beautiful company), they were color-dreamers, too. I wonder how far back these studies go. I have a bizarre theory that this has to do with television, which began in black & white and has now moved on to color and HD, etc., etc. I’d be very curious to study the average dreaming habits of each century’s population since human existence. I could see if my flimsy theory holds true.
Dreams have been the most consistent ‘church’ for me; the closest I’ve come to any significant spiritual experience. I might be too rigid to let those experiences happen in my waking life, I don’t know. I remember in a college philosophy class the professor mentioned that some Buddhist monks denied themselves comfortable sleep. In our assigned response I wrote about how foreign it seemed to deny yourself what was, to me, the only source of purely distilled soul-glimpsing.
There have been times things I’ve dreamed happened, actually happened. Maybe my gift of analysis allowed me to mentally prepare for the most likely outcome. Or maybe I just got lucky. I don’t have a ready explanation. And I’ve been made real by the fact that others saw this as a prophetic gift. But, and I’m sure I’m not alone in this, there are moments and interactions that rip the rug out from under you and make it very difficult to trust that anything about you is real. I’ve had to struggle with a few crises of faith in myself – the latest one has been the most difficult because I did it to myself. I dreamed something so real it couldn’t have been a mistake. Except when I shared it, it ruined a significant friendship for me.
Maybe a muse can’t be a friend, too.
The Lyrics
Take one more stone from this foundation
And say our dreams have no significance
All these nights I’ve been alone in my own head
Not touching the future or foreseeing consequence
All these years I’ve held them in such reverance
Because when I tried to recreate the scene
Your reaction seemed equal and opposite
So if I can’t trust what’s in my own head
Does this make me a prophet apologist
Or simply an obstinate optimist
When your dreams are as clear as memories
Can’t you see
It’s easy to mistake them for reality
And if I still ache for you when I wake
It’s not fake
Maybe I’m a flake but cut me a break
Looks like I wished this
A case of one-sidedness
And I never saw it coming
When you’re in sight
It’s fight or flight
So I’ll spend my time with the world at night
Take one more stone from this foundation
And say I am blinded by decades past
Every moment of us that’s etched in my head
Tattooed on my skin, from first to last
Is not enough to make me sorry that I asked
I ripped myself open, I sewed myself shut
I can keep it together when you’re not around
Though every night when it’s time to rest my head
We’ve time traveled once more to this ghost town
And though it seems we’ve torched these walls down
When your dreams are as clear as memories
Can’t you see
It’s easy to mistake them for reality
And if I still ache for you when I wake
It’s not fake
Maybe I’m a snake but cut me a break
Looks like I wished this
A case of one-sidedness
And I never saw it coming
When you’re in sight
It’s fight or flight
So I’ll spend my time with the world at night
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