What’s real in these depths? Bubbles within bubbles, each moment seems solid until touched. One dream dissolves into another, but who’s the dreamer? It’s a wondrous journey of self-discovery.

At times, I believe I’ve finally gotten up, only to realize I’m in a clearer dream. As one illusion bursts, another, more subtle, shimmers into view.

Even in the boundless, dreamers seek walls. Within the infinite, mirages reflect mirages. When there’s nothing left, who watches the emptiness shimmer?

These bubble realms, one inside another—each perfect until it bursts. And when even nothing becomes too substantial, what dissolves the final film?

My visions keep shifting. Each level of stillness reveals new motion; as each certainty dissolves into wider questions. Am I waking up or dreaming more lucidly? It’s a mystery that unfolds with each passing moment.

When the ground becomes sky and the sky becomes ground, who’s progressing through these mirage stages? Each achievement is waking from one dream into another.

The territories keep changing, my mind bubbles popping, then suddenly working with everyone else’s dreams. Each summit reveals new valleys, and each clarity shows alleged secrets. It’s a journey.

The pure appears as drops on webs. Each new power feels new, and each new “understanding” is simply knowing I’m still dreaming.

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

Is there any difference between the dreamer and the dream? Between the bubble and what makes it shine? Between perhaps the vision and the one who sees it?

The greatest success looks like ordinary dreaming. What exactly was I trying to wake up from?

Which illusion leads to reality when these paths cross? Maybe every direction points both to sleep and waking up.

Are these supposed “levels” separate dreams, or is one dream seen from different angles? Just reflecting itself endlessly.

Again, I notice how each realm contains all realms, nested dreams within dreams. The highest appears as simple as the first but is seen through. It leaves no trace; it’s writing on water.

While I’m alone and blue as can be.

Where am I? But there are still circumstances. But then, what exactly am I trying to clear away, and who’s doing the clearing? Can I remove both at once? If so, who will notice the removal, and what will remain to be removed?

The less I seek my source for some definitive answer, the closer I am to being fine. Maybe I could leave, but isn’t that just another kind of taking away? And who would do the leaving? Where is the heart?

When I try to keep both, who keeps them? Each seems complete until it questions itself delicately. What makes one more trustworthy than another? Is there anywhere left to stand?

Not taking away, not leaving behind, not both, not neither – but what?

I gently watch myself trying to find the right stance, but maybe that keeps me stuck. The very attempt to stand somewhere might prevent proper standing.

Everyone might be wading through these same territories, whether they know they’re dreaming or not. Some still dream, some through moving visions, some through both and neither—but all somehow make their way through these fragile realms and dark paths. Everyone expresses what can’t be positioned.

You are always welcome.