A pleasure of life. My dreams.

Dreams. Wonder how significant. I may go a long time between dreams. Then suddenly dreams come in a flourish.  Every night. For a week. No let up. Interesting. Very detailed dreams. Not scary. Not nightmares.  Just dreams. The dreams  seem diffuse.  Oh, there may be connections. I just don’t see any. Maybe I should write ‘em down.   Dreams tend to fade with time. Now, I can’t fully remember ‘em all.  Of course, they may be related.  May never know. Or never care.  Lacking a sense of urgency. Maybe my subconscious tells me a dream is a dream. Sleeping-time entertainment. Nothing more. Nothing less. No need to psychoanalyze.  Rather,  enjoy the show.  Another of life’s pleasures. My dreams.  --Jim Broede