i recreated the conditions of the dream. i wore the same clothes. i slept in the same position on the same uncomfortable couch. i even read the same words i'd read before, and trailed off on the same sentence. but it never came. nothing came.

people say dreams are all in your head. but even if they are, then why are they so ephemeral and uncontrollable? why can't i make them come when i call, when i need to return to them? i had some unfinished business with that dream. there was a place i needed to get to, and someone i needed to meet. there was a promise that held me suspended throughout its duration. the journey through the jewels of that celestial crown, wonderful though it may have been, was only circumnavigating the whole point of it all. and i want to get to the point.

perhaps dreams are as real as the past. and, like it, they withdraw the further we try to reach. and, although "history repeats itself," the past and dreams cannot be repeated, no matter how much we would like, no matter how hard we try.