Some nights just hold a message for you, and though these messages, unpackable as they are, seemingly only come in sleep, it's not like you sleep. Not well. It's like these dreams are starving, too long held at bay, and they lull you into apparent unconsciousness, then eat your sleep to feed the vision.
I don't know. But it's odd and unsettling, and somehow feels important, though how or why, I suppose will come in its own time, as the dreams did.
Time means something different, if it means anything at all, while the world is sleeping.