Ponderous melancholy spirals into a deep slumber.I hear voices; phantoms amorphous in aspect, crying, laughing, screaming, cheering. I feel not the bed where I rest on, my senses dim as I feel my body numb. The scars on my body, the pain of muscles aching, of bones creaking, of blood boiling, and head pulsing are lost. I transcend life, briefly but painlessly, as I sink into a state of counterfeit death, a realm where reason is rhymed, and rhyme is reasoned. What world awaits us after death?And how powerful is the mind that it has borne consciousness to counter the dogmatic soul? Do we enter a state of death when we sleep?Do we enter a parallel world when we dream, real and physical in its own sense, yet fleeting and easily forgotten and cut-away from due to the strength of the world we exist in now? Or are we the dream? Are we the harsh dream to the amorphous fantasy of reality?My mind trails off to subjects that transcend what I think I see and who I seem to be.This is not new to me. 
Somnium realitatem