a dream is just a dream

in my dream, the ground beneath me did not tremble. in my dream, the shelves of my heart did not shake and were stable and the books were neatly tucked away in their places. but when i woke up, i found myself still stuck in the center of the hurricane of pages.

and now the pages are so thick, that no one can see me or hear me at all. all they see is the big messy hurricane of a life and move on to more pleasant things to look at. but i do not blame them at all. even i can no longer stand to look at the mess because it makes me too dizzy. all i can do is pray for more dreams where the ground does not tremble and the shelves are stable and the books are still books neatly tucked away in their places.