My dreams must be scripted by William Burroughs, they are so weird, far more interesting than reality. Scary dreams don't worry me, I know they have no meaning.
Every night when your brain goes offline it defragments it's hard drive, or a better analogy would be it's millions of floppy discs, compacts it's old files and installs pending updates. The brain can't stop trying to make sense of whatever shit is buzzing around in there so it turns it into dreams.
If you like bad poetry, this could have come from Rat Billings book (in Adultworld), but some people enjoy this sort of thing so:
Defrag Dreams
by david shelby kirk September 23, 2000
i wish i could defrag my brain
i feel there is so much to gain
with all the chaff unfettered from
my brain would no longer feel so numb
i’d set the options with due care
all clutter gone, none would i spare
lost file fragments? why, set them free
and please, no log, while on this spree
duplicate files? please let both go
what i know twice i’ll surely throw
running tasks? let’s shut them down
no interruptions, please, from trivia ground
why do this?, you might then ask
because clearing my thoughts is such a task
whenever i think of worlds profound
i discover instead i’m clutter bound
football scores and the price of gas
just fritter my brain with no knowledge to pass
trivia fills me at every pore
and yet it’ s growing, more and more
so, please dear Lord, show me the icon
and let me defrag and set my mind on
so from the clutter i can depart
and cleanse my soul and pure my heart.