for today we are but dreamers, sitting in a field of day star lilies, dreaming the dreams that dream themselves away, and draw us into another world, when we close our eyes we open them, said the frog, and as he spoke he took a long drag upon his cigarette, motioning me to another cup of tea. Trepidation, he said, is our fear that in seeking we will truly find a reality more real than our own in something abstract and created by our own hands.
Have you ever seen a sign more real than the reality it points to? He asked of me.
No sir, said I, and the frog then motioned to the brook and said, then be as the brook, and drift between realities, flow above the solid and beneath the air.