What exactly are we supposed to do with dreams? They come to us when we are asleep, totally unaware, and fill our mortal bodies with that warm, juvenile joy of a different life. The moon and the stars stare at the spectacle and remain silent. A 6000-year old conspiracy.
And then the dreams take off at dawn, as soon as the first cruel shaft of daylight tears through the room. Reality takes over. But then the dreams never really go away. They still linger in the back of your mind, thin slices of memory and fading images of recognition when you look at certain things.
This, of course, is a set up. Reality is cold and cruel. There are both triumphs and mishaps arranged for you as you go about your day, and reality will ensure you keep all the appointments.
Would dreams ever do this to us during the day?
But we are dreaming machines. The great existential puzzle lies somewhere in our dreams, we are informed.
So, dream on.