Awake I am, yet dreaming, nestled in the folds of sepia tones and echoes that bounce in the hollow spaces of yesterday.
Our words dance like shadows, flitting away from grasp, woven into the tapestry of unwritten tales.
What if the walls could speak in whispers? Would they hum the melody of forgotten conversations and fractured hopes?
Once, there was a cat wearing a monocle, nursing a cup of surrealism. Shattered glass beneath the weight of its nonchalant existence.
The cloud that cried jellybeans lamented beneath a frowning sun. Why do candy rains fall?
Consider this ponderance: never do the stars align for those who dream with eyes wide shut.
Contact the voice at the end of the corridor, past the mirror that reflects the orange-scented dreamscape. Maze of reflections.
...The keyboard's silence rings louder than thoughts unsaid. Echoes of silence.