the rub of the dreamer.
God meets you at the exact moment your dreams manifest into reality-in one divine second.
The subtle kiss of a spectre, the expanse of some daunting foreign terrain, the gargantuan theatre production taking place on the stage of a single synapse- they are the milleu for nervous angels and frenetic devils dropping little longings like mass print pamphlets.
But the moment, the exact moment, that a longing manifests into reality is the exact moment our meager human minds seem have the chance to grasp the fact that there is some serene order to the world-
-that there is no folly in dreaming. But to transplant a dream, like an organ, from the corpses of our torpid subconsci into the brilliance of sentience-therein lies the rub.
