I cannot tell my dream from reality, though I have never befriended reality; except maybe when I watch you from a distance… I see the truth and I look away…
They say dreams are the residue of your subconscious and unconscious blahblahblahblah. I belong to the dreams more than the reality and my reality is merely a replica of the residue of my nightmares. that leaves me at the periphery; shuffling my feet between the abyss and the chasm.. how many dreams die a death at the mercy of relativity.. yourtruthisnotmytruthisnotmyreality. I’m reading a recount of a concentration camp survivor who says when reality became overbearing he went inside to the world of dreams and they were made of memories…he spoke to, sat with made love to all the goodness he had lived and in the times of distress forgot the bad ones… selectively choosing to live… living life is the dopamine… pain is a dopamine most times… shocks me out to puncture reality with dreams of memories I once lived for…dreams I believed in… dreams that fooled and foiled the plan itself… all dreamers will not give up dreaming although none of their dreams will ever come true… the certainty vs the uncertainty….have we seen the dreamers closely? They hang onto life with a strength unknown other than in faith.

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Dee is from Lahore, Pakistan. Loves dark nights and old trees.