All I Have To Do

Dream research indicates that as we get older the quality and thematic content of our dreams changes. For all their interest in dreams, very few of my psychology students were fascinated enough by that revelation to incorporate it into their individual research projects. It seemed easy enough to do. A good way to interview people of all ages, but delving into how our dreams change as we age never got proper play. I'm going to do something about that right now.
Since my withdrawl from the daily grind, I have naturally been getting more sleep. That means more dreams. I've had the luxury, too, to think qualitatively about my dreams and if, in fact, I notice any changes. The answer is absolutely.
While they seem to come in bunches, as the three I had last night, there is one real difference I sense, and that involves the physical sensations. Where once much of the physical and erotic quality were focused on various body parts (yup, those parts) I find that now the visual focus is on texture, as in the feel of skin, the look, sensation, and scent of hair. The dance of hands and arms, vis a vis the pelvis or the tongue. I say focus, because that's what's noticeable.
It always amazes me when someone I haven't thought about in ages appears in a dream. It's as if the brain is reminding us that yes, all we really possess is our memories, but we do, we really do possess them. Like the brain is saying, "See, here is what I'm giving you tonight, a few minutes with someone who touched your life in some way; someone who maybe you don't want to forget. " Call this a fantasy or misfiring brain cells, it's still there, well-timed, and definitely satisfying.
Like most dreamwork, we do well to reflect and keep reflecting on the content of our dreams. They are always works in progress that add up to a greater whole. Dreams invite our projection, our questions, our revelations, our artistry. All that, and they are loaded with surprise.