stranger than fiction

"Reality is stranger than fiction," she said. 

I turned it over for a second. 

"What if reality IS fiction?" I muttered. 

"Like we're living in a simulation or something?"

"Well there's that too." I sipped my tea carefully before continuing. "Chuang-tze once had a dream he was a butterfly, and upon waking he was no longer sure whether he was Chuang-tze dreaming of being a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming of being Chuang-tze." I paused again for more tea, but before I could continue she cut me off. 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" 

"What do you think it means?" 

"No no I'm not falling for that." She crossed her arms. "You tell me. You brought it up." 

"It means you think you're listening to me speak but maybe you're just having a dream about listening to me speak.  And if you're having a dream, then it's not even me speaking, but you, since it's your dream and your brain is creating the whole thing."

"That is totally not what that story meant."

"What do I know I'm just a voice in your head," I shrugged. 

"Why do I even bother talking to you?" She sounded exasperated. 

"Who else are you going to talk to?" 

"If this is all in my head I could literally talk to anyone I wanted." 

"Now you've got it," I said. 

Goodnight. 

touched

I have been touched by the gods

or the universe 

whatever that profound space is 

both inside and outside my head

and am somewhat mad

at least i think so 

but i ask myself, am i truly

going mad? 

or is everyone else who plods along 

like nothing remarkable is 

taking place, 

are they the ones who are mad? 

so these either are the writings of a madman 

or the diary of one of the few 

sane people on earth, 

even time itself won't tell