I recently read a short story that borrowed heavily from Zhuangzi’s butterfly dream. I can’t get the image out of my head of a girl standing on the roof with outstretched arms. Preparing to jump, unafraid, because she’s going to wake up. It’s at once heartbreaking and hopeful, except we know what happens when she jumps.

(I guess it doesn’t help that I recently rewatched Inception at Harm’s. It’s tricky, this business of dreams. It doesn’t surprise me that people question their reality.

It helps to remember that we are being prepared for a more real reality, that’s more than a redundant phrase.)

Lately, I’ve been plagued by vivid dreams that emulate my reality. Too close for comfort. Time is accelerated, things are happening rapidly, and when I wake up, I’m disoriented when I find out, it’s only Tuesday.

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