"All the manifold changes of karma are but the passing phases of a dream."

There is no relief like sleep, no game or novel able to match the draw of the dream: in those great depths of sleep we can exist such that all faculties are perfectly, subtly engaged so as to consume the entire being–where else but in dreams can such depths of thought and existence run unhindered? Indeed, the allure of the sleeping mind can only be matched by the boundary between sleeping and waking, where the imagination is vivid and thoughts deep like asleep but the waking faculties hold the dreams into memory and let consciousness join in that nocturnal world–a reprieve for the conscious mind that might very well be the key to holding dullness at bay (a pathetic aspiration–cannot one come up with better uses?).

To embark on a journey in the interstice of the two consciousnesses, the sub- and the waking, that has been my only odyssey and from there some of my most intimate memories derive. It was long-ago, what would await in the choppy seas of today? It is long on nigh to embark!–even if the path has changed and the interstice is harder to stay within.

There is perhaps only one thing in life that can be said to surpass such an odyssey of the interstice and that is to live! In the darkest days we dream and thereby hold a compass of passion among waking wearies. To fulfill our dreams, to follow their lead and make waking as worthy as sleeping–no satisfaction I can conceive could surpass that. The waking world is the measuring stick of our worth, dreams the great foundation of thought and action and existence we could achieve.

At a late hour I thought, "perhaps most of waking life owes itself to those few shining dreams we have during our lives (particularly when we are young, I anecdotally note), which persist throughout the years in their vividness and meaning indefatigably." Then I closed my eyes, and then I died.