Your Inner Zamboni

Sometimes I wonder if there's a bit of Zamboni going on at night while I'm asleep.  I have a rough day with events and conversations that really leave me torqued up.  My ice is scratched up and cracked, so to speak, as I've missed my jumps and spins, and at times landed ungracefully on my rump with a bump.  I go to bed rattled, dreading the morrow.

And while I sleep, it's like a little Zamboni goes to work (perhaps the metaphor is extended by the fact that I hear the parking lot cleaners rumble through the Wal-mart lot at 4:00 every morning, a quarter mile away). That little Zamboni scrapes off the roughened scratches, picks up the debris of the previous day, smooths the surfaces over a bit, fills in the cracks and leaves a glossy finish, ready for the jumps, spins and sweeping turns of the coming day.

Not always, but often.

Is it my dreams that do it?  The unconsciousness of my brain that gives me a much-needed break?  My guardian angel who soothes the sore muscles of my soul and tidies up my mental landscape as I sleep so that facing another day seems possible?  I don't know.  Does this happen for you, too?