...insert the rest of the song. Simon and Garfunkel, For Emily, Wherever I May Find Her.
I've been dreaming a lot.
Someday I'll notice that it's time to wake up, and I will.
We are all dreams of the gods. What happens when we wake up?
It's early, and I'm wide awake and drinking cranberry juice on my sister's orders. I'm pretty sure "Drink it. Now." meant the whole bottle. Big bottle. So I'm awake.
What is the fundamental difference between reality and dream? Am I going mad? I must be mad. Lunatic, rather than excessively angry. I don't get that angry much anymore, not now that I've learned to control it rather than have it control me.
I wish I could have learned how to do that little trick, the one where I fold my hands, focus my anger into them to the point that it's out of the rest of me, and then, saying "Go forth to someone who needs the energy, and harm none," I unfold my hands, and my anger leaves me, much sooner. It would have saved me a lot of grief later, because such rage is toxic.
I dream. Surely I dream as I type this, and I will awake in three and a half hours (according to my clock, but time in dreams is always warped) to find that it was but a dream, and never happened ....
...and as I cross the threshold, I step into another dream.
No, absolutely sober, why do you ask?