Dreams

Things remembered amidst the space between slumber, things forgotten when one is awake. Where the deepest laters of memories become the outmost layers of memories that in turn become the outmost layers of one's dreams.

Which is reality? Which are illusions? One cannot tell amidst the languor upon an awakening. Yet in this lassitude are remnants of the past dreams and memories.

Or perhaps they are: At the same time, both truth and fiction.

A vast nebulous with no boundaries... An emptiness equivalent to my own existence. I dreamt such a dream... A never ending dream... And in this dream I saw you…

I saw us.