I Sing a Song of Simple Solipsism

As my noble friend Janglestein thaws from his journey, hundreds of miles from here, and as Bagelstein continues to befuddle with his nonsensical images and words, I implore you to ask yourself, do I, Wafflestein, exist? And what of the rest of the Trollpop? And what of this blog? Are you really reading one? Or is this all a dream?

You know dreams. You've felt them. How do they feel? Real? Real. A dream is indistinguishable from reality, for as long as you are trapped within its grasp. The logic of dream is incomprehensible to the waking mind, but is forever in tune with the dreaming mind, which shifts forever to accommodate it.

Last night I dreamt I was flying alone on a carpet. The carpet had always been a car. There was a dog with me, and he had always been there. I was uncertain about landing - I had never done it before. I landed, and it was just the same as the hundreds of times I had done it before. I left my car and exited through the doors of the shopping mall that I had always been inside, with bags of the goods I had purchased. I was leaving my front door, empty-handed, to get the mail. There was no dog with me. There never had been. In dream, that which is always was.

Life is a pattern of dreaming and waking. Do you remember your first waking moment? Your first dream? Your childhood, even? Brief, dreamlike snapshots, maybe. Were you ever even counting odd, wake, even, dream? Or is waking even odd? Did dream predate birth? Are you in an odd-numbered state now? Are you sure?

Last night I dreamt I woke up. Sleep well.