Dreaming of waking while still asleep, sleepwalking through life while actually awake; never in the right dimension, always slightly off, a second too late, dancing out of sync. A badly dubbed eastern European movie; characters mouthing each other visible snippets of inaudible conversations. Stuck in a bubble; muffled, shielding and distorting, vision blurred by the curves of reality dissecting; a world as fragile as a spiderweb, balancing precariously, potentially earth shattering. The proverbial earthquake caused by the wings of a butterfly. If it is a dream, why don’t my tears dry?