Labyrinths of the Mind
Once, I dreamed of navigating mazes made of marshmallows. The sweetness disoriented my senses, yet the squishy walls held whispers of 我們的記憶, urging me to recall the forgotten days when candy was our currency and giggles the toll to enter secret fortresses.
In one corner, a clock with no hands ticked solemnly, reminding me of the irrelevance of time within these candy-coated walls. Beyond it lay a field of wilted daisies, each petal a page from a diary left open to the rain. Smudged secrets and faded ink, that's all we had back then. Or was that last week?
Just as I seemed to grasp the essence of my dream labyrinth, a voice called from the shadows: "Would you like to play chess with an octopus?" Of course, how could I refuse such an offer? The octopus, dressed in a top hat and monocle, took our game to a level consisting mostly of interpretive dance and philosophical debates about fish rights.
Navigating this circle of dreams feels like reading a map drawn by someone who's continually late for meetings but always punctual for tea parties. Look closely, and you'll find paths leading nowhere and negotiating terms with shadows.