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The Curse of Reasons
Our lives are ruled by reasons — reasons offered and reasons received — reasons demanded and reasons rejected. Reasons throttle our freedom-loving imagination on a tight, choking leash.
After sunset on a reasonable day, I like to let my imagination run free, chasing the swirling slipstreams of my dreams in the hot sanctuary of my tub.
Night fragrances of trumpet vines and Jasmine wash over the parched synapses of my imagination like spring rain on the high desert — igniting evanescent blooms of thoughts and emotions racing to the infinite horizon, yearning to be explored.
Plunging deep, I emerge from below the surface. Lucid dreams conjure visions of trees — one vaguely reminiscent of something that might once have belonged to me.
In the midst of pondering what sort of tree I had spawned — the demanding chatter of a Mad Hatter: “Is that a tree? Why do its leaves look like toes? How many leaves does it have?”
“All of them,” I answer, bubbling and slipping below the surface back into the silent solitude, the world of reasons a dancing, dissolving blur. I am once again free to romp the wild frontiers of my imagination — free from the curse of reasons.