Life is a dream.

Life is a dream. 

All of it. 

ALL of it. 

The past is imagined. 

The future is imagined. 

The present is so razor-thin that it’s over before I can experience it. 

All experience is remembered. 

All memory is constructed.

The only true existence is a now I don’t even experience. 

Everything is dreamed. 

I am perfectly safe. 

Nothing can hurt me except in my dream ...and only if I believe it. 

What will I do with this gift?

If I don’t just choose to enjoy it, play in it, revel in it, marvel at it, experience it as an endless call to joy and happiness, I am insane. 

Because whatever I experience, I’m just basking in nothing. I’m believing in what is not, what never has been, and what never will be.