1)The theory that the self is the only thing that can be known and verified.
2)The theory or view that the self is the only reality.
Dreams are made of falling ideas. You can't touch me when I sleep in blankness. I can only be with my own head. Sleep was a gift given to us by God in hopes that we might learn to be alone and find our spirit. Sleep was our passage to enlightenment.
"What do you dream about?" She said looking at me with brown curls falling over her eyes.
"Nothing. I never dream. What do you dream about?"
"Do you ever have nightmares or dreams that are agitations to your sleep."
I leaned over and said softly, as if to give her secret information
"I do dream. And the only dreams I have are nightmares."
"Are they scary?"
"No, they are nightmares because when I wake up they aren't true."
We took a taxi into the city to see the buildings. All I saw were people yelling, "Fuck you" at the world. I saw people higher than these building. People were squawking at each other. They were acting like monkeys with no respect for the forest. There was so much evolution taken back by the city. Crammed in people lead crammed in lives. Their condensed spirits fall out of them when they die like muddy clay falls onto hot concrete. Plop!
From my office I can see the city breathe. It's streets like a chest going up and down and the buildings like arms and fingers touching everything. The analogy of city to man can go on and on. I never thought to make the analogy of man to man. Live within your own body and ignore the other's around you and you will hate everything by the time you die.
I held your face in my hand as if I was trying to hold the most delicate thing ever created or formed by earth. I thought at any moment, with any quick touch, any false faith in my fingers, you would crumble or blow away. I took in the lines as if a Da vinci painting were in front of me. You dare not touch in fear that you may crack, smudge, or taint the oils so perfectly assembled. You can only admire. You cannot use. You can love from a far but to engage or make a purchase at such a thing is to trick your soul into denying all that nature has shown you in the name of beauty.
"Why are you leaving?" she said with a shy, heightened and hurt voice.
"I can't do this to you."
"I can't let you believe that I'm real. I can't let you think that this exists. I will never exist the way you dream me."
"You already do."
"You don't understand your dreams."