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Eidetic are my dreams of death, sometimes graphic.
A facsimile of my life plays out to my own confusion, for once I awake I find that I still exist in this world but it no longer feels real.
I am often left with this strangeness that my reality is the dream, and my dreams are reality.
But if that is true, then I am surely dead already.
A facsimile of my life plays out to my own confusion, for once I awake I find that I still exist in this world but it no longer feels real.
I am often left with this strangeness that my reality is the dream, and my dreams are reality.
But if that is true, then I am surely dead already.
