I love being alive. Aware. Existing. Able to think.
Consciously. I am. Maybe I’m fooling
myself. Into thinking that I am. And I’m really not. Only a figment of
someone's fertile imagination. Therefore, I may be no more than a dream.
And I’ll continue to exist. Until my dreamer awakens. But maybe I will still
survive. In my dreamer’s conscious thought. As a recorded dream. That can be played and
analyzed. Over and over and over. Forever. Like a piece of wonderful music. –Jim Broede
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