I think that nearly every living being on earth feels in some sense like an agent of the impossible. A pioneer. An explorer. And it makes sense, because each new being is precisely that: an entirely distinct way of being in the universe, participating, relating.

I imagine that dreams might be an astonishing side-effect of our nightly telephone call to the impossible. Where we came from. Transmitting, receiving and recombinantly activating crucial intelligence. Gathered by the agents in the field. You. The sparrow. The bee. The tree. Us. Together. Dreaming.