Sunday, May 15, 2011

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?


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?

1 comment:

  1. You weren't dreaming my dear.

    You were simply waking up.

    +Red Cross+