My soul is like the swimming — without the fish. In each life, the swimming is joined to a new fish and thus renewed; re-entering a process of omniscient amnesia in which all past, present and future fishes are uniquely instanced as a swarming cloud of relations and potentials.

And dreaming is the heuristic echoing of that joining. Its character, tendencies, experiments, and creativity. Its inspirations and fears. A murmuration. The storm of it.