Creative Ideas via Sleep

Why am I getting all of these nightmares!? Do I need to lighten the reading before bedtime? Teddy Roosevelt's River of Doubt must be getting to me...The Indian attacks and crewmen killing each other off is apparently too much for my brain to handle before I hit the pillow. I had 4 different scary episodes in my dream last night:

1. Bruce (fake name someone I've known for a long time...but somethings off about him) kidnapped me by a creek we live by in Kansas City. Details are blurry... but I do remember a white van and escaping back to my house.
 poem I made from dream:

Bruised Bruce steering curves, screeching breaks, yet nothing heard. 

2. I found myself on top of my cousins roof. They had repaired the roof with shingles packed tight in zip lock baggies (what!?). It was my duty to hammer the "shingles" down. Though the zip lock baggy part was weird, I can relate to the roofing. I've worked on Habitat for Humanity at SMU, and roofing is always my favorite part! Maybe my dreams are trying to tell me to volunteer more?
poem I made from dream:

Clickity clack on the rooftop I spat, straddled upside down -a flaying bat. Hammering plastic-- my wings--collapsed.

3. I watched myself or either my daughter (no I do not have a daughter in real life) get kidnapped by two older men. The men were well groomed, one had white hair, and the other was younger and more Italian mafia looking. They got in a car, and ordered me to get in. I miraculously had a pair of scissors and cut the saggy skin between one of the guys index and thumb. This was excrutiating, but not enough for them to stop chasing me. I ran away and climbed a black skyscrappers/rockwall. They weren't that swift at climbing, but they eventually caught up... then I woke up.
poem I made from dream: 
      Dusty fairies of familiar ties, colorful, wonderful, yet shy. Couldn't undo what I had to pry. 


4. This part was closer to a columbine event. I was inside and could see machine guns firing through the wall. I had the instinct to run. I arrived at a huge gymnasium like room with neon colors (almost looked like a paint ball arena). Here I tried to hide under sheets on a trampoline, but I knew the killers would be able to see my shape. Time was running out, but I decided to go climb again, I was pretty sure they were in the room now... fortunately I woke up.
poem I made from dream:
     Flipping and foam in this condescending dome. A tent I made- pinching for a spade. 




Who knew sleep could be creatively productive?