I woke up in the middle of the night in a sort of startle. Something was confronting me…. Somewhere between the land of sleep and the world of being fully awake, I tried to think about it and see if anything remained at all. Something was startling me, confounding me, making me restless, alive and somewhat frantic. I found myself wondering if it was good or if it was bad, and then I realised that my eagerness to fall back into that world made that answer very clear. I looked outside, the moon was shining, paused right in front of my window. I traced back the trails of the dream. I couldn’t remember any of it at all, not one single thing, but it was true and it was real, whatever it may have been. Eventually, after a few minutes I fell back asleep, secretly hoping to fly there again.
When I wake in the morning that feeling is still there: hovering, lingering….. Making me perfectly aware of all those hidden places that we live in when we sleep. That feeling…. it lingered. I still couldn’t remember any details, I couldn’t remember anything that could be described at all (just a total amnesia). But that feeling…. Oh, that feeling. It’s better than every single concrete memory or idea that could have remained. It was an unrested night, a tempestuous sleep, that made me wake up as if I had not slept at all. I make some coffee and dwell in that feeling, wondering, even though completely in vain, what it was all about. But I smile… It doesn’t even matter. I remind myself that the night dreams are more real than anything else we can ever experience; I remind myself that while we sleep, our soul flies around the endless world, through time and spaceless dimensions, planning, doing and being all that it is supposed to be. Although the only thing that remains is this sort of emotional field that lingers behind, I smile. It is more than enough.