dreamlessness

pet project for the night. in the wake of the onslaught of dreams i have had this past week, i've tried to look beneath the murky waters which dissolve and erode all light that enters it, and emerged with more questions than answers, since questions may be more telling than answers. answers are stagnant ponds, monocausal, while questions stir up waves behind itself, rippling outwards further and wider beyond itself.
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are dreams indicative of absence or presence, reflective of the clutter of emotion and sensation, or of voided internal space? do they culminate from excess thought and leftover feelings unspent, like a pot of froth boiling over in senseless, tasteless nothingness? [air bubbles envelope voids, and essentially exist because small vacuums are isolated from a larger emptiness by a thin, frail film.] or is the body and mind overspent and in overdrive, producing visions of its hyperactivity in its reluctance to slow down and cease?
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do dreams enter time from the vantage of the past, or hover in the foreshadowing of the future? do they echo the present or shape it? are they a figment of the mind's anticipations, or a silhouette of the soul's dread?
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why dream?