Lucidity, he seems to suggest, is the best hiding place for deeper meaning—much like a transparent thing stacked in between others.

Whether it comes as an inkling or a full blown awakening, the direction is the same—it is toward what is real.

as if I knew everything about her, and everything about myself, too. It was as if the emptiness, the void that sat at the center of my soul, had been lit with light brighter than the sun. A history—my history—flashed in front of me, but too quickly for me to do anything but snatch at it. “I remember you,” I said. “I remember you,” and then it was g