Lucid Dream

So I stand here and ask myself, as I have so often before, whether I want it, why I want it and what I actually want.

There is this thing that seems close when it is so far away, that seems similar when it is completely different, that seems connected… Connectedness, connection, connection.

The connection – where does it exist? In my head? In my eyes? In my hand? What can it be? Connectedness. What is it? Who feels it? How far does it go? Connection. What is connected? Can it be connected at all? Does it want to connect?

So many questions and so few answers. Few? No, no answers – no answer. That’s what emptiness feels like. And so I sit here, dreaming, in the midst of my own stupidity. And the dream will soon become the next nightmare.

I can already feel it today. The vague outlines of the dream become a clear sketch of the nightmare. Waking up seems so brutal when it is still so beautiful, would be so beautiful? Who would want to wake up? It’s still so beautiful – the dream. I don’t let the first clear streaks perrish it yet.

I’m still dreaming in my stupidity – I’m still dreaming because that’s what keeps me alive. Makes me come alive. Shows what is possible – what would be possible – what could be possible. Who wants to wake up when you can dream like me?