Sweet wonderful dreams.
How I admire my place of refuge. My own dreams, where my mind can wonder free and soar amongst the stars. How commonly normal waking life can be, at least in my dreams everything is possible. Whatever the imagination can phantom becomes as real as the notebook on which I type these words.
But are dreams real?
From childhood on I have learned to distinguish the reality of my dreams form the reality of waking life. In our culture dreams are regarded as not real, phantoms of the mind. Illusionary realms that the brain creates in order to comprehend all that happened to it during the day. But is this vision correct? When we enter the dreamworld do we actually lose touch with the real reality?
I like to argue that this is not the case.
