2024-06-21 - to dream, perchance

Is a dream really a dream if one doesn’t know what’s ‘awake’ and what’s ‘sleeping’?

The egg is not nearly this philosophical yet, but it does beg the question of what the egg knew as an understanding verses what it only thought it knew. Sometimes, the egg, tapping into its mothers dreams, thought it truly was flying. For how can one who’s never even touched the air outside its shell understand ‘flight’ or ‘swimming’ or even ‘breathing’? It was a conundrum of the highest order.

As with most dreams, the egg is simply taken on a ride, as there is nothing the egg can do besides hitchhike. It does not mind this, because to it, the dreams are a sort of entertainment, something that it does not get during its developing life in the shell. As it wanders with its mother in the sky, its immeasurable heat sinks, a glowing ember within its shell.

Flight is something foreign to the egg, but the feeling of ecstasy in the sky is immeasurable. And all too soon the flight is over, the dream is done, and the egg’s heat slowly rises again.

Perhaps it soon drifts off into its own dream, but the difference between ‘waking’ and ‘sleeping’ is as thin a line as what separates the ground from the sky.