CrystalQuartz

I am not a lucid dreamer. Just a regular dreamer.

Last night I dreamt that something had given me the capacity to experience everything as perfect. So if I saw a book, the next time I opened it, every paragraph would be 100% perfect. Every moment could either be what it was, or perfect, which apparently wasn't that different to what it was before. However, there could only be one perfect. Only one way in which things could manifest as perfection. The passage of time meant that things still changed continuously, in a relative sense, in response to my curiosity. At first I was quite satisfied with this perfect version, finding it in every way superior to the old. After a while though, I sensed that perfection took ''me'' right out of the equation. It was perfect, but impersonal, and in that sense limiting. I woke up with the weird understanding that perfection somehow impeded creativity. It couldn't be both. It couldn't be both creative, and perfect.

There was a lot more to it, but I can't remember.