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  • You are having a dream, an impossible but powerfully real dream. You are walking through your life as if your life proceeds with normalcy, as if the dreams dreamed by all people will be your dreams too. You want to taste the honeyed anguish and broad humanity of your ancestors. You want to close your eyes to the world of meanness and too much false light. Tired from the day, the public, the demands of civility and intelligence and gentility, you enter the bed like a sleeve. Muscles find their nest and you are released.

    You see two figures on the horizon, very far apart, specks, atoms. Between them they span continents, generations, cultures, yet they proceed. You walk to the middle, meeting the other and laugh as you realize that you have mastered time. The stranger touches your shoulder like the edge of your heart and your perceptions are forever recast. Lines are erased, a new picture forms, normal has lost its meaning. Gardens become houses. Bedrooms are places near the sky and you make love in the arms of three trees. The floor lives.

    The dream is disturbing but you welcome it anyway. It is a dream you cannot share with your mother, another, your friends. You can only share this dream with the dreammaker, your co-conspirator who is far away in a place where everything is too big and too fast and airplanes are flying into buildings.

    The unsettling nature of the dream is oddly bringing you pleasure and you smile for unpronounced reasons. Perhaps because of the expansiveness of love. Although everything is backward you sleep sweetly as if you are embryo and cadaver at the same time. You float in a pillow of clouds, dreaming this strange dream as the god of yourself until the day shows red on your eyelids and calls, Didier.

    Reconciled, you will never place your foot in the shadow of convention again. Liberated, you have turned and there is no return to the virgin dreams of childhood. Be brave, an original life awaits.
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