There are few things in life more engaging than a trip inside one’s own psyche. Myself, I’ve never been one to sit still long enough to meditate, and so I am a dreamer. I find my wandering self through sleep, when my blended brain must pull me down through the pillow and my body quits for the day, this quiet expanse, my realm of macabre fantasy, keeps my soul awake indefinitely to form a vast fractal of beautiful thought when I can no longer keep my body lucid. In this way, I have come to live a continuous life, my vision permanent as the blue bespectacled eyes of Dr. T.J. Eckleburg.
When I open my eyes to my dreaming self I am anywhere and nowhere, on a never-ending adventure through my brain’s interpretation of everything I have ever seen or touched in life. To spiral into a person’s dream self is to share their personal life through a kaleidoscopic lens of what can never be, but in this way, we can know another’s soul. It is the brain’s unbound expression of our truest selves on which we are incapable of placing rule or reason. I am what I dream.