There's a funny sort
of fuzzy feeling that
occurs, spontaneously,
halfway between a 
memory and a dream.


An odd, shimmering,
misty feeling,
impossible to name
or quantify. 


It defies gravity,
yet at the same time
it holds you to
the Earth's slippery
surface.


This is the home
of so many moments
in time, that slip
and whisper sinuously
past one another
in this vague 
dream-state.


So many fragments of
a shifting world
lurking and twisting,
half forgotten,
halfway between a memory
and a dream.