A long night full of dreams

I fell asleep on the couch at 7 last night and stayed in a sleep daze the rest of the night...dreaming so many different dreams I've forgotten ninety percent of them, but the ones I remember are vivid and clear like memories instead of imaginary dreams. I remember a city, a crowded city, so full that cars were stacked like piles of pancakes in parking lots, and to get yours out from the bottom of the heap required acrobatic skill, and to leave the city you had to sit on crowded highways. I dreamed about a hurricane so large it cut a swath over the surface of the globe, every continent, spinning through every ocean and finally sputtering out in Greenland, of all places. I dreamed about a woman who had grown up in grinding poverty and now insisted her baby sleep in a warm bed every night, even though she had to overextend her finances to do it. I dreamed about hiking to a festival in the rain, and waiting for friends who never came, called instead offering lame excuses like a waiter offering sad, sorry-looking appetizers on a gilded tray. I dreamed a man operated on my body while I was awake.

Is it the moon, do you think? I wonder. The full moon.

I'm winding up to start writing again. Every one of these dreams is a story, a long story full of twisted characters and plots and subtext and emotion.

The moon in the night like that gives me goosebumps.