While dreaming them, we often believe our dreams are real. We live them, wander through them, and spend days or months in them. When we wake, our dreams vanish like smoke. We shake our heads, smile sheepishly or regretfully at our dream memories, and move on into the real day.
Sometimes we speak of our dreams as real. Sometimes we imagine that our waking lives are dreams, and that what we have called dreams are our real lives. Sometimes we long for the vanished reality of dreams and feel enslaved by all else.
What do we mean when we say that our dreams are real? Are they real in every way? Do they have color and sound? Do they have texture? Do they allow themselves to be smelled and tasted?
Do our dreams have weight? If so, do they have balance as well? And how do our dreams balance when weighed in the scales against our waking lives?
(All artwork, descriptions, & other text created & copyright © by Eric Edelman. All rights reserved.)