The experience of dreams is the closest that “normals” get to madness. I have said it before: my insanity was like dreaming while was awake, and something like having nowhere to wake up to from that state. Years of constant dreaming. Like a recurring dream, you get used to the landscape. You meet people and they remember you the next time you see them. The seasons change, even, though it may not be the usual spring, summer, fall, winter — it would be more like seasons of mood, that colors everything in gloom or brightness. And like dreams, the absurd is sometimes sensible, and logic sometimes makes no sense at all. It is strange to think that both dreams and madness come from somewhere in you, for they both seem a little more than you have the capacity to imagine, though somewhat less than a world. They’re both interesting places to visit, though if I ever had the choice to — and this applies to dreams, too — I wouldn’t want to live there (again : ).
