Certainly, you feel afloat in the world. Your feet may be on solid ground. Your feet may even be glued to the ground. Nevertheless, you feel up in the air, suspended in midstream as it were. You may feel that you haven’t yet landed, that you fly around somewhere getting ready to come to Earth, yet it hasn’t happened yet. You haven’t hit Earth yet. You wonder if you ever will, or if you will be spending your Life in midair suspended between two worlds, neither of which you may feel you really belong in.

You are a dispatch that was sent and, as yet, hasn’t reached the landing place. You are in an awkward place. How long does it take you before you can say fully that you have come to Earth? You wonder if you will ever get down-to-Earth the way others appear to do.

Other people seem to have some chance of command over their lives whereas you seem to just keep looking at a Life in the distance, front or back, as if you are looking for an opportunity to glide down to your Life or over it or around it. It doesn’t seem to you that you have even gotten your sights yet. You don’t know where to look.

How strange it is to not be anywhere, or not to know where you are, and not to know who or what you are. You don’t know if you are a star in a far-off galaxy. You don’t have a compass to give you good directions. When you are adrift, you long to steady yourself.

What dream is this you are having? Are you the Dreamer of the Dream, or are you the Dream itself? What do you have to drop off, or what is it you have to catch onto?

Sometimes it seems like you are smack between two worlds and never gain real admittance to either. Can you be a wanderer who belongs nowhere instead of somewhere? How can you attach yourself to ideas and still not even be close to them?

You wonder what happened to the shores you thought you would reach. Did something happen to the shores, or did something happen to you on your way? Where do you get back to now? Is it worth the striving -- or not? How would you know what anything is worth anyway?

There seems to be some music that the Sirens sing, and you are compelled to try to find the music. It comes from somewhere, and it sure does call to you. This music from the Sirens comes from somewhere, yet you barely hear the music. There are no lyrics, or the lyrics are long gone.

All you can think is: “Once upon a time…”

Or all you can think is: “Far away and long ago, I dreamed a dream…”

Or all you can think is: “Somewhere, over the rainbow…”

Or all you can think is: “Someday my prince will come…”

And your prince hasn’t come.

Are dreams more true than the realization of them?

It has been a long time since you have thought of how you used to play hopscotch. What did hopscotch hope to accomplish now that you are all done with it?

You used to play jacks, or you never did.

Now that this vapor of time is gone, you wonder what is the difference between Truth and Dream. In either case, you don’t know where they exist now if ever they did.

You feel that you stand in the Center of the World, a Vortex of the World, and you’ve never been anywhere anyway. And, if you had or hadn’t, that wouldn’t make any difference anyway. This could be the meaning of there is only now. It is something that was or wasn’t and you are left thinking there is no difference. You feel immobilized at the same time as you take flight.