My dreams are usually pretty vivid.  For a long time, I kept a dream journal.  But I just lost the discipline after awhile.  (And some of my entries were so illegible, I couldn’t even make out what happened.)  I don’t write down my dreams nearly as often as I used to–but every once in a while, something passes through my head (or my head passes through something) in the wee hours of the night that I just have to record–even if I don’t know why.

Last night, I had a dream involving teaching and cartography, art and family.  At a certain point I picked up a newspaper.  There was a poem and in the dream, I just loved it.  It seemed juicy and refreshing.  Reading text in dreams is for some reason typically pretty difficult.  But I could read this easily.  When I woke up, I scrawled the small part I remembered in my journal.  Here it is:

Past          Present          Future     (Tents)

Christed     Christing     Goats

I kinda get a kick out of the fact that my mind made a pun while I was sleeping.  In the dream, the poem seemed so very relevant.  I sure wish I could remember the second part of the poem.