As sleep approaches I want to be there to feel the slide into the other side.
I wait with paitence as the cocktail brews surrealagenic juices secreting dreams and tangerine views.
As the magic moment approaches when the grey matrix is saturated and reality subsides a little voice begins to wonder “what if I cannot escape!?”
What ancient laws would I break when my conscious self transcends the nightly divide? How will I be punished for this free ride?
Even at the very thought my grip begins to loosen insanity appears inevitable if I enter the dream awake how can I ever shake a constant bleary future of daily waking dreams?
Then I look for reference a grounding, wrinkles, text I can actually read a world that makes sense at this last I stumble.
I know I am an illusion, born of neural fusion so what could it possibly mean for my consciousness to enter the dream?
In my conscious state, my percepts are figments too, so what is the difference, and why does it feel so strange?
Then I recall the punch 120 micrograms of Lucy’s lunch, the border is so very thin, how can I truly be sure, which state I’m in?
I guess I can only hope, that I’ll come back out each day with those juices properly at bay, but if not, at least I’ve had a chance, to think things over, so now its time to surf tonight’s slippery turf!