Dreams are our futures
sharing with our pasts,
and we their interpreters,
frustrating the first
and misunderstanding the latter.
We rewrite our pasts
every time something changes
while pretending to live in a present
that doesn’t exist.
See?
It didn’t even last one second.
How many selves do we churn through
over the course of a lifetime,
and are any of them truly us,
or is there no us at all?
