Falling Lights...

I've learned that during an eight hour sleep period a person experiences four separate sleep cycles each containing 5 stages of sleep, from dowsing and sleep spindles to REM sleep. Most often I can remember a couple dreams per night, but recently I've been able to remember three or four the last few nights. Last night I can remember two, however I was told by my fiancee that I woke her up at three o'clock in the morning to somberly tell her of a disturbing dream.

I was not able to recall the dream, nonetheless, it seem familiar to me. She said that I described it over and over again with my eyes closed and that I would respond to her pleas for me to shut up and go back to sleep. Instead I kept on telling and retelling the dream. Then suddenly, my breathe quickened and, according to her, I started to get emotional, and said, "that's the end of it; it must be prevented," then went right back to a silent sleep. She told me she tried to wake me to see if I was well, but I wouldn't be roused.

This morning she told me the entire dream dictated by me from an unconscious state. I'll describe it in my perspective since that was the original source. So without ado...

I'm carrying a bucket and a ladder. The wood keeps giving me slivers but I can't feel them. My legs are long and scrawny. I'm wearing a coat with tails. I can't distinguish them from my legs. Don't know who's walking down this street. I have a wet towel over my head, but I can still see. It's too dark here, but that's why I'm here. I'm supposed to light the lamps. It smells like kerosene. It's in the bucket. I'm at the first post. This ladder is awkward to set. The ground is muddy. I hope it doesn't slide. I can't climb with any speed. Its like I'm moving through water. Maybe its the towel. The street looks filthy from these heights. People move so fast, but disappear when I try to follow them down the road. There's a small fire already in the lamp. I have to blow it out first, then refill the reservoir. I keep spilling the kerosene. My reaction time is off; always tilting the bucket too much or too little. Replace the lid and climb down. Water world again. When I'm down I move so fast. So this is what its like. I like this. I keep repeating this process down the road. Fast, slow, climb, fill, down, slow, fast... I finish all the lamps on the street. Seven in all. One, one, two, three, thank you Fibonacci. Strange, the bucket is still full. Its still quite dark. I'm so stupid. I forgot to light them back up. This is a dream. I can light them with my mind. The first lamp is lit. Now the rest. Know the rest. The fire keeps on growing. It spread to the posts. Seven pillars of fire. Nobody is on the street, but I can hear them talking. They think I'm responsible. I never wanted this job. I can't make water travel more controllable. Its a problem of altitude. The farthest post collapses. They're all falling down. The lights are falling. Its getting bright here. Job well done. The next block is dark. There are too many people there. I still have a full bucket. I still have to refill the lamps.

That's when I said what I quoted above. This has been haunting me all day.