When I sleep well and nobody wakes me up in the morning, I have very nice lucid dreams. Over the weekend, I had quite a few worth remembering, including one about elven ruins that I went to do charity work in for few nuns and as I was sorting through the donated clothes I learned that they were for elf-zombies that still lingered in the catacombs of said ruins. Very entertaining.
It brings to my mind an idea I had few years ago: what if our life here is just a dream and our real lives actually are the ones we dream about? And even if it’s not so, wouldn’t it be nice to have a choice, say “I would like to live in my dreams” and from then on slay monsters, pilot starships, do charity work for the undead or whatever one is up to normally in one’s dreams, and only dream about endless days in the office, excel spreadsheets and clients telephoning about their problems…
Sure, some would say this condition is called schizophrenia, but when you think about it, really, wouldn’t it just be delightful? I would take this option without thinking twice.
I figure this is because what’s surreal goes down my throat smoothly, where reality I just cannot swallow, despite the worlds continuous efforts to shove it in. I haven’t a doubt that if the world would succeed, I would throw up anyway, covering everything around in realistic vomit.
I hereby declare war on reality – I will sleep through entire weekend - let's see who wins!