Dreamscapes

I don't know where I'm going, just know where I've been
It's been sweet, it's been bitter, everything in between

Oh to exist! In a place where time and space cease to matter. To crouch in a cool limestone cave with sunlight shining through only from the mouth of the cave, and hear fresh water drip drip drip onto the glistening brown surface. Someday, maybe, a stalagmite might form there. I will be dust by then.

Somehow this image comforts me. My generation has compressed time and space into capsules we swallow every morning, evening, night; we run and we run and we are afraid to venture off-track. Inundated by information; catching and dodging questions flung like arrows. Each byte of detail about the world around me is like a decibel, they are a torrent of sound, and my ears are ringing long after I leave the crowded dance floor of my peers' conversations and chat windows and newsfeeds.

Sleep is merely an empty hole patched between bright glaring days of conscious experience. No true rest. No grateful escape.

Where is truth? What should I seek? How do I get it?

I will not find the answers here, it's not a needle in the haystack, it's not the one lottery coupon among millions whose digits match those on the television screen. It is an undefined variable in an infinitely complex, unsolvable regression.

Drip, drip, drip.