I was thinking
A thought

That turned into flashes
of grandeur, greatly mundane, yet profound storytelling
of the conscious mind's eye

Yet, I fall into the trap of tracing and chasing
the dream ...

I fall into the trance of
tracing back, a transient feel
yet, feeling so out of place

Placed - here, and here I hear it
A thought, that became a stream of opening
That fluidness of it's true nature
of becoming a story - that never happened

- Yet, feels like reality -

I wake up
And think about my memories of my day to day experience
I see them like I see my dreams
I can NOT distinguish between one or the other (in past tense)

Yet, there is something so real
Yet, fake about a memory
Because a dream is rememebered the same way as a memory

That is the fine line, I constnalty walk upon