A Dream.. Again.

I dreamed something ugly to a certain extent. I was reminded of that smile, and the way the hands felt. It seemed real. And when I woke up, it was the ugliest thing. It's so ugly when you've finally forgotten all about it, and it'll somehow make a sneaky way in your brain to mess up the line between reality and dreams.

(again, it's funny but it hurts.)

Screw it.

That is why she dislikes dreams; they impose an unacceptable equivalence among the various periods of the same life, a leveling contemporaneity of everything a person has ever experienced; they discredit the present by denying it its privileged status. As in that night's dream: it obliterated a whole chunk of her life...
- "Identity" by Milan Kundera