I am two. I open my eyes in the middle of the night . A command, as if fallen from the skies, tells mes to wake up , taking me away from the deepest dreams. The room, embraced by the darkness, is fading, but the subconscious mind still does not cease to share bright, just incurred images. The details of the dream are almost tangible , and while the plot, no matter how absurd is, now looks quite convincing. To the extent that is even difficult to define the boundaries between what is real and what is stolen from the kingdom of those who are still asleep . My dear creations of imagination, if I could learn how to tame them,
I could become a God of my world.