I never had or used an electric typewriter, but this morning in a dream I was typing on one electric typewriter, and I was enjoying it, and that is already great all by itself. As long as you can dream... Being a human being is an amazing experience, although it would be hard for me to compare with, let’s say, being a rabbit on Halloween, when the pumpkins are smiling and witches are flying all across the so-cold Sky.
I wrote a poem in my dream, but I just forgot what it was about. Perhaps it was about something that seemed important, but which wasn’t, or it could have been about something that seemed unimportant, but which was. The importance or unimportance of everything escapes me in the end.
I wonder if I’ll ever remember what I wrote this morning in my dream. If it was important, if it still is important, if it will remain important, it might come back. Maybe it’ll come back only if it wasn’t important. Perhaps it won’t come back, and perhaps that’s important that it won’t, or maybe not.
I wrote a poem in my dream, but I just forgot what it was about. Perhaps it was about something that seemed important, but which wasn’t, or it could have been about something that seemed unimportant, but which was. The importance or unimportance of everything escapes me in the end.
I wonder if I’ll ever remember what I wrote this morning in my dream. If it was important, if it still is important, if it will remain important, it might come back. Maybe it’ll come back only if it wasn’t important. Perhaps it won’t come back, and perhaps that’s important that it won’t, or maybe not.
::: ::: :::
[Picture : The Rabbit by reading_is_dangerous]
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