When the time came it was easier to stay awake. Even after global suppression of dreaming through mandatory medication, the majority was complacent with going permanently numb; as if it wasn't bad enough when they grinded our asses during the work-day.
For the dreamers, the night time Houdinis, the choice was more difficult to make.. so they started to make it for us. "Confirm or die you somnonauts, you dorminous slumber jacks!" they spoke firmly from our fathers' mouths and pleaded from our mothers' eyes.
The only thing left to control after they had the money [which went like pulled teeth, so often as they were along with precious metals from our grandmother's hope chests on their solid oak night stands, the pre-Holocaust watch our grandfathers guarded during the Old War, the frame that housed the picture of our parents' weddings, the gems we found in the shallows of forgotten streams], and after they had the food, after they collected all of the waters from all of the lakes, rivers, and aquifers, after they harnessed the energy- after they finally had their winter homes in peaceful suburbs on the moon with the perfect view of their livestock portfolios- all that remained to grab were the souls not easily squeezed, those transient things, those mercurial luminescent eels. The waking bodies were bought for freshly minted pennies on the dollar.. the astral Adam's and pineal Eve's calcified soon after.