In the Middle of the Night

In the middle of the night, they come to me: dreams, ideas, grand theories about the whys of the world, the hows of humanity.
In the middle of the night, they come to me, whispering their secret knowledge into the deepest crevices of my mind, tucking them there for safekeeping, like the mason jar full of twenty dollar bills buried in Uncle Buzz's back yard.

Daybreak dawns, and those tucked away secrets are forgotten, leaving only the questions, the ones that begged for the revelations that come in the middle of the night, behind.
Even if the answers to the mysteries of life could be recalled, indexed to forethought, there is the sense that the light of day would only make them seem insufficient, calling their validity, their credibility, their very existence, into question.

But somehow, in the middle of the night, the answers that come to me seem iron clad and water tight, sensible and true.

Somehow, they seem easy.

In the middle of the night, they come to me, revealing everything already known, if never learned.

Dreams say what they mean, but they don't say it in daytime language.
~ William Gail Godwin

Channels are blocked in the mind, from the day. Lie down in blackness of night, forgotten remnants rush to the mind, or creeping slowly appear in the dreams.
~ Nathaniel LeTonnerre

Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives.
~ William Dement