Sometimes the distinction between reality and dreams seems inconsequential. What matters when everything is pain and everything is joy? The world is as bright as it is dark. Shall that denote your dreams? Or your life?
I often dream such things that my waking mind does not realize were merely the wisps of the dream. So I awake and go about my day, and everything is as it is until, suddenly, I realize that this fact that has been sitting in the back of my mind is not actually a true fact. A dream fact. A wisp of the dream. That’s all it is and nothing more.
It’s jarring. Disorienting. My eyes stare at the embodiment of this dysfunction and I wonder how many more facts are actually figments of the sleeping mind.