picture this...
       (i really have a ****** idea of what's imagination,
hence, it's mostly autobiographical):
   a little blonde colt walks into a bear encosure...
mama bear is there,
        but so is the young bear,
                            about the same size as the colt
                                                       human...
                           they play around for a while...
then the bear nibbles at the boy's sweater...
           and bites off one of the buttons...
                                     the same boy fudges his
foot in an ant-hill in a forest, rather than agreeing
with his mother, to look at a mole creating an
earthenware of **** from inside-out...
                       but a kid in a bear enclosure?
how the ****, did i find myself in such a space?
         it's a bit like asking harambe, you gonna
                                      kentucky fry that little ****?
no? you're just saving it? good on you.
                 bam!               harambe no more...
or as the offspring might have put it: ixnay on the hombre.
    that translates as 9-nays           (9 no... what's the plural?
      no's...    that's possessive...        nos?
                              and you might as well
  add the letters        k   and    e... better sniff
that **** out... ah... the aesthetic of a silent / surd
            letter.... knife....  wife...       nigh     f....
    where did the vowel disappear to?!)
                            toy... at most, at least,
  at the best of all possible outcomes...
                 philosophers have their "thought" experiments...
poets?     thank **** they have word play...
               at least language can be a rekindling of
the schoolyard...           we          play...
                          there's no need for "experiments"...
by now thinking is already made redundant...
   why would it, to begin with? given this modern interest
   in a.i. (artificial tech.)?
                   ****... this *** is really getting to my head,
i had a dream... for some reason i dream a lot about teeth...
and i pulling my K9s out with a pair of
                              pliers...
        but that memory of walking into a bear enclosure
in the danzig zoo... and the baby bear biting off a button
off my sweater... and then running back to mummy
crying, saying: he bit off a button off my grandad sweater!
       that ****'s true...    
  **** me... dreams are so dreary... in their instance,
for one, and second? in their insistence to actually exist...
       i want to remember! i want a life that has been lived!
it would seem that memory is very much a faculty of
   psi (ψ), akin to dreaming...
    you could call memory "day-dreaming"...
      but what is the need to remember the agitation of
         plants by light, absorbed by chlorophyll?
i count memory, or the so-called instance of "day-dreaming"
as more necessary, than dreaming per se;
             it could probably mean: i lived a moral life;
i lived a just, life!   when you devolve the necessity
  for dreams?      your memory sharpens...
   you actually begin to see, that your memory streches
  far far back... the greek myth of the "siamese" twins:
  thanatos (death) and hypnos (sleep) should be changed,
it should really be about unerio & mnimi -
                                                 (dream & memory);
the potency for the basis of a "need" to dream, derives
it's presence from the freudian desire to interpret dreams...
ergo? dreams have no significance,
   they are as much subjectively biased, as they are
objectively untrue.