Why must I dream? Is it to dwell in a paranormal world where my limitations have no boundaries? Or is it to remind myself that the possibilities to realizing those goals locked away somewhere in the back of my head do exist?
Everyday I wake up, my mind ripped apart between both worlds, as I struggle to retain and keep with me the memory of the dream I wake up from, knowing fully well that in a few moments that it will be nothing more than a vague memory, and that no matter how hard I try to fit the pieces together, there will be quite a few that are broken and shattered, and some more that are missing. And in a few more moments, even those pieces will take their leave and depart, and return to wherever they came from. I find solace in the fact that I can still dream. That there is in me the ability to differentiate, separate, segregate, the pieces of reality and virtuality.
They said that the insane are the luckiest. They do not have a dividing line in their minds to separate the real from the unreal. Well not really, I made that up, but the point here is not who 'they' is, and why he has such a funny name. There is an interesting observation made by many I'm sure, one thought that has provoked my train of thought yet again. DO the insane really need heaven or hell? They have either right here. Does that mean that they are more satisfied than we are? It would be nice to be insane. I could no longer be bound to responsibility and other earthly things that I'm supposed to abide by. Not permanently though. Just for a moment. For one tiny moment I'd like to be free. To experience what the insane can.
But the question here is not how or why or what. The question here is...
Am i sane enough to go insane?
