Even the strange dreams seem somehow more rich, inhabited, and friendly than the world I awaken to from their nocturnal embraces. But the debacles I face in them are intricate. And the one I adore always disappears with the onset of the waking world.

But more and more the two worlds mix, inhabiting a sort of twilight realm where I am dreaming and aware that I am dreaming… but not quite lucid. The dream’s grasp of me retains its primacy.