REM Due to neglect of the most important parts of sleep, all the missing motions of my eye came together in an army marching through my heartbeats. The rhythm catches my feet and they begin to pump. Finding an empty spot in a back row, I slip into the so dreamily tramping. A colonel with his face covered by clouds watches me from the stands. Moonlight or it could be lightning struggles to break through. He lifts a hand that disappears in the mist. Was it a salute, or was I pointed out as an imposter, a spy in their routine astounding regiment?