day 5

I prefer an imperfect moon
which remains to be my own ocular perception
and cyclical forces I do not how they come about.
The imperfect moon presupposes a perfection
which leaves me with an ideal to dream about.

I prefer an imperfect Child
which remains solely in the care of a miracle
perchance to grow up with grace and faith
The imperfect Child presupposes a perfection
which my temptation to write will never reach. Yes, it will never reach.

As a child, I sleep, far away from the imperfect moon.
Sleep is almost unconditional. Sleep is the perchance to dream; to be the ideal state of semblances that I have no proper ties to;
to be 'He' and not entirely be 'I'.
Where the dreamer is not there to dream its own dream. He is in it, as well as outside of it, drifting from one universe to another;
perchance to be the ideal that he does not recognise.
in a strict sense, dreaming is so imperfect and elusive that it is all there is to it; hence, Perfectly divine.
To wake, those terrible nights of insomnia and the days of drifting presence, the simulacra of absence in dreams remind us that we dream alongside our waking dream. I can simultaneously be 'I' and 'He' or even 'She'. And 'We' misidentify and fade, sometimes we disappear, or we take a backseat and witness how resemblances fade in and out.

Dream, your imperfect dreams, usually unsatisfactory and inconclusive. You may have shot a person. Rape your own family. In short, done things you could never have done in 'Reality'. And then what matters? Real or symbolic, semblances of the Same. The difference is in the Touch.

So I prefer to be reminded by imperfection. So I can fly through and know I will never tangibly touch Perfection. Hence, it is simple to love. Imperfect as they are. I don't have to strive for higher places. I will never reach them. I will only dream of them.

Wake me, when I dream. Dream, when I'm too awake. I can love and hate myself simultaneously. I crave for more introspective violence.

I dream, therefore I am.