I've been dreaming again. Not of my future or lost in some reverie of my own invention during the day, I mean at night, in bed, while I'm sleeping.
According to medical experts, we all dream when we sleep. I, however, have a long history of not remembering them. But recently that's changed. I can only assume it has something to do with my increased writing.
I find it very odd, like the dreams that I've been having. Just the other day, I was a satyr looking for a human mate. I have no idea why? But at the time I thought it would make a good story; now, I'm not so sure. But I've had that happen before. Ideas that seem good in my dreams do not work when I'm sitting at the keyboard.
And for some reason I keep dreaming about technology. Last night, I kept dreaming about network issues with a play-and-plug Ethernet connection on my Mac. That makes no sense either.
But then my dreams rarely make any sense and is why I usually ignore them. The important stuff that happens while I sleep -- reviewing the past day's event, working out issues, coming up with solutions -- all transpires without my knowledge and without calling attention to itself. Ideas just pop into my head or something just spills out onto the page when I write.
Some people will say that's the muse. I don't. It is my imagination and it's like a muscle. It needs exercise, flexing, and occasionally straining to do its job. Go to far or not far enough and it doesn't work as well... or in some cases at all.
I've certainly been flexing my imagination more these last few weeks. Perhaps my dreams at night are the result of it unwinding the way the muscles in my arms and legs unwind when I sleep.
I don't know. But it leaves my feeling like I've seen incredible beauty and am awestruck, struggling for the words to describe just how amazing true beauty it.
I suppose I could go back to sleep. Except I've got all this writing to do...