Dear Dystopian Dreamer,


I know it doesn’t feel real and there is an impulse to distort, in order to do just slightly more than survive–to thrive. Navigating between the alternate reality frames, do not feel too lonely or too devious. Do not be angered, if slightly bothered, by a mild ambivalence or some vague sense of guilt. I urge you, Dreamer, to investigate that Ms. Clavel-like, ‘something is just not right’–sometimes, mild–sometimes, throbbing–sometimes-maybe-behind-the-cobwebs-in-the-recesses-of-that-beautiful-mind-of-yours trace of a thought experiment you’re not remembering just quite how to forget for just this instant of a moment.  Seize it, the right-the good–the possibility of finding Truth in experiential freedom– that does not betray even the most cursed of Dystopian realists because, ‘that’s all there is; there isn’t anymore.’


Fellow Traveler


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