My life is a blur of caffeine and alcohol, cappuccinos and red wine, ups and downs. It’s always been that way for me. I remember those nights in my childhood home when I was told to sleep but couldn’t. The nights when I’d stay awake counting the number of times the automatic AC would turn off and on. Nights when I’d listen to my parents scream about divorce at two in the morning. They’d eventually stop arguing and go to sleep but the AC would continue turning off and on. And eventually, I too would fall asleep somewhere after the off but before the on.

I wanted to sleep because then I would be unconcious and away from real life. It wasn’t until after I left home that I realized that the monsters you avoid when awake follow you into your dreams. Borges wrote in his lecture “Nightmares” that “We don’t know exactly what happens in dreams, we are in heaven, we are in hell.” There is no escape.

Through the void, a strange reality exists, the marriage of waking life and dreams. The polka dots and moonbeams.

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