There once was a philosopher named Zhuangi

One day Zhuangi had a dream, just like me.

In that dream he dreamed that he was a butterfly fluttering around happily, doing whatever he wanted.

Just like I did.

He didn't know who he was until he woke up.

Yet he wondered...

Who was the dreamer?

Him?

Or the butterfly?

Does HE dream of us?

Did Hannah truly die?

Was I dreaming the entire thing?

Why do I feel like my heart was torn out of my breast?