“Presentiments are strange things: and so are sympathies; and so are signs; and the three combined make one mystery to which humanity had not yet found the key” ― Charlotte Brontë
Mrs. Wilkie is listening.
What is a dream? The mental garbage of the day organized into a surreal narrative? Or is it the moment in which we tear down the walls that protect the borders of our consciousness from the realization that time itself is a nebulous entity that may or may not exist, allowing us to peer backwards and forwards through the veil of practicality and linearity? Do murder, suicide, and traumatic events ripple across the elusive time barrier and give us a glimpse of a universe where everything happens at once, but is experienced by our consciousness as flow? I have so many questions. Including, why do they put orange peel in marmalade. It’s a perfectly tasty…
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