"The neurological pathways... they form a map in the dark," one voice proclaimed, loud and sure. A precision echoed within.
"But can we trust the cartography of sleep?" inquired another, softer, as if tracing boundaries with hesitant fingers.
The audibility rises and falls, akin to ocean waves against the rocky shore of consciousness.
"Precision over the horizon... forgotten calculations," someone mused, their tone almost nostalgic.
The whispers of the neural council... mysterious, yet resounding with forgotten authority.
"We speak and yet do not speak," a cryptic voice commented, enveloped in the fog of an unknown realm.
The dream horizons expand infinitely, grasping at theories unbounded by the daylight's logic.
"Let us wander these pathways," the chorus urged, as if a gentle reassurance against the mind's waking scruples.