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“I remember sitting in bed, as a child looking up at the ceiling I couldn’t sleep, of course, And so set about to thinking I wondered, what are dreams made of? Are they stardust and galaxies? Are they the tendrils of existence Reaching inwards from eternity?” — Justin Wetch
I remember sitting in bed, as a child
looking up at the ceiling
I couldn’t sleep, of course,
And so set about to thinking
I wondered, what are dreams made of?
Are they stardust and galaxies?
Are they the tendrils of existence
Reaching inwards from eternity?