Monday, June 04, 2007
Fiction/Non-fiction
Dreams bleed over into reality. They have a way of crossing over into real life, bringing with them all the promise and potency that only dreams can muster. They invade a dreary existence and, for a brief moment, I understand why we are all here. Within this short rupture I can see what we owe to ourselves; dark shapes of distant magnetism prompt us to go farther, to take one more step towards an unknowable horizon. They gift us with release: from the bonds of obligation; from the gravity of truth; from our own limited realisation of ourselves.

But it is brief. The constancy of mundane things weighs our spirits down and makes us small even as we struggle against a tide born of habit and momentum. Eventually, even the earnest pursuit of dreams will serve only to deliver us to some future gaol from which there is little reprieve.


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posted by Hong at 9:00 am | Permalink |


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