Nocturnal Lucydity

Such certainty I had, that I was not dreaming—everything was—or seemed—waking reality. Something—someone—hinted that not all was what it seemed. It seemed too fanciful a notion—such clarity I held.

With the ground and my mind trembling, everything rocked, before the earth beneath me was replaced by another kind. I stood, uncertain, now quite certain that this was no reality and, in fact, my dark fantasy. Never has the transition in dream states been so abrupt—like an earthquake or a needle skipping across the wax.

Waking now, I am no longer certain—no longer can be certain of what is my dream-delusion, and what is real and what is true.

-M