In that short sleep that felt forever, I dreamt I was a butterfly.
I could not tell I was dreaming as everything felt much real
than fiction. But when I woke into this commonplace, I was
the I I am familiar with, the I that has always been instilled
as I in myself. That is when I start to make an assumption
that I was not the butterfly.
But which part is the real here? Was I dreaming that I was
the butterfly? Or was the butterfly dreaming that it was me?
Even if there is a difference between the butterfly and I, the
distinction is not absolute. And there is no relationship of
cause and effect. There is no truth that can be achieved by
our limited and feeble senses. As God has made us in
His image.
I could not tell I was dreaming as everything felt much real
than fiction. But when I woke into this commonplace, I was
the I I am familiar with, the I that has always been instilled
as I in myself. That is when I start to make an assumption
that I was not the butterfly.
But which part is the real here? Was I dreaming that I was
the butterfly? Or was the butterfly dreaming that it was me?
Even if there is a difference between the butterfly and I, the
distinction is not absolute. And there is no relationship of
cause and effect. There is no truth that can be achieved by
our limited and feeble senses. As God has made us in
His image.
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