The guilt melts in the light of truth as the fog burns off the grass; dawn comes in the dream, at least. And you can just jump out of that tree, just spread your arms and fly, swim through the air, truly free. It's hard to be hungry in the dream, not impossible but difficult. And it's similarly challenging to get beat up, physically, emotionally or otherwise. Unless that's what we're into. The future is adequately meaningless in the dream, obviated by the fact that pillows are clouds and puppies may metamorphose into fire trucks. The past is similarly irretrievable and irremediable. The utter flux that is this moment breaks over us in waves, you actually understand what I am going through, and vice versa, and still we forgive one another. It's very hard not to when one grasps the utter mutability of reality within the dream. If we were to dare creating demons, they'd likely consume significant portions of our anatomy at the very least. So leave the demons for the nightmares, they really do come often enough. We can stay busy enough guiding our flight through the expansive golden sky while still expending enough psychic energy to keep our toes from sprouting daisies.