In the vastness of dreams, doors exist.
Not to welcome, but to bewilder the brave who dare
to turn the knob. Heraclitus once mused,
"You cannot step into the same dream twice."
But here lies the paradox:
the door is always ajar.
And if one were to open the door, what would greet them?
Perhaps a philosophical chicken, pondering eternity,
or a professor of absurdity teaching the art
of failing gracefully in a well-pressed suit.
Does the door lead to enlightenment or an existential
crisis flavored with a hint of vanilla?
Questions linger, much like the smell of pancakes
at a wedding steeped in irony and indecision.