Heavy lids cinch sockets shut allowing only in(ternal)sight. Awash in slumber I witness dreams those interdimensional thoughts, that stuff of other worlds. My consciousness has entered their land and they drift toward it, permeating it placidly like nubile nimbus innervating the sky. I am enraptured by their ever-changing narrative. Wispy cirrus with its fleeting skeleton story, cumbersome cumulus, pregnant with meaning, eager to spill forth and shower me with its mysteries. I gaze at the heavens and I am their architect. I mold the ever-shifting shapes they show me into some semblance of significance as they dissolve before my eyes and new forms take their place. Though I will remember none, their impression leaves imprints, and I awake with more questions than answers.