To dream of day or to dream of night?
The purposes are different.
I prefer the night, the clarity changes the tone, changes the content. The closed eyes understand the soul that has no doors and no windows it is transparent, it sees the world and everything sees.
Day dreams are more real and concrete and have more logic, and it creates an obligation of fulfillment and frustration if it does not.
In night dreams, ghosts, witches, elves, beings of the night, do not support the clarity, so they invade our thinking, when we are disconnected, asleep, to take us with them to an unexpected adventure.
The figures of the night are more daring, they sing, dance, disappear, reappear and become characters that relieve our existence. They work our meanings, complement our anguish, suffer for us, rejoice as we do, get excited about us.
At night fate does not persecute us, we are loose, there is no limit, censorship, constraint, nothing imposes, not even our will. We cry, we laugh, we groan, we wake up with a start. No matter if we forget or remember, the adventure was lived in an imaginary more than real. Confessable or inconfessable, it marks they impress. They become stories we recount or secrets we do not declare. We are more human.
We are always drawn to adventuring, but with a price.
At night the dream is our owner.
good night
I will never love again if I have solitude as a companion. I think of her with jealousy of someone imaginary who could steal from her a sigh, her attention. She does not know that I exist and I die by cultivating this illusion. I wanted to narrow the time, because I think I can win her one day. Life wanders somewhere and this place is the immense night of poetry. I photograph the sun to remove the day, I hold the moon to ensure the night that brings me joy. But I know it takes more than a desire to turn the day into a night. I do not preach, then, my eyes so as not to lose it for a moment, since it is your presence that feeds me. Embrace it is a dream that knocks the emptiness, my arms are without presence, are my lips without pressure. Yet some day I still make this fantasy my religion.
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