I have this feeling like I'm on a partition somewhere. I'm a little ghost between real life and dreams. A feeling I get a lot. Or a variation of a feeling I get a lot. A sort of weird kind of consciousness like my mind is split in two and living in different countries. Something like The Parent Trap but with two halves of my brain (which, of course, are both played by Lindsay Lohan). It's this particular kind of conscious muddiness. A pinch of 'overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of my surroundings and existence' in a big bowl of 'I want a piece of bubblegum and a huge teddy bear and to run in circles until I'm sick'. Or something like that.

I dunno, man, it's like I'm very here, but I'm also not here. I'm drifting off in some place that isn't real at the same time. Like I'm ten cloned ghosts. It's interesting. I will keep coming back to ghost metaphors because it feels ghostly somehow. Hazy. Dreamy. When I do actually dream, I have a lot of very vivid dreams. Just recently I had a dream about someone trying to kill me with a knife. Trying to get close to me, looking in through the windows. And in the same dream, Dan Howell tweeted me and I made a pun that made no sense (he loved it).

I can remember all these feelings and motions and discoveries from that one dream, under a blanket of familiar washed-out haze, and so much of that configuration of sense seems to bleed out into my waking life. There is always this wobbly, wiggly line of clarity of consciousness curving up and down. I feel like everything is a dream.

I kinda wanna be dreaming all the time. I mean, sometimes clarity of the senses is great. That way you get to really examine things and notice things. It's really nice in a natural setting or when you're up early. I think the dreamy feeling, or variations of dreamy feelings, are very comforting and pleasant. I suppose what's nice is the ebb and flow of clarity and consciousness. After all, some of the most enjoyable moments of living are those special little places between wakefulness and sleep. Those times when I lie in bed and let my unfurling imaginings lull me to sleep. Kid me would scoff, but those are pretty great.

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Thank you so much for your comments, especially if they include limericks about skeletons.