Dreams. We do them because they are different than what reality brings. Why then dream of reality things? Who does dream and to reality clings? It is a sign of wanting, that one should covet when one wakes that waking does break the only true beauty in living: Dreaming. And that dreams should be the only true beauty in living, is not that life’s prime sad thing? The true meaning behind maddening? The mystifying basis of wanting, that one should live one’s whole life wanting to escape; and that there should be no safe place save when not awake. And yet it is the waking – that which is living – and that sleep be Death’s cousin, could that be why we ache for dying? Why we fear death but resign ourselves for its taking..?
The questions resound, all, for contemplating and, resonating, do add clarity to my day.