"Sensation is the function by which a person realizes that a thing exists

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Sensation tells the person that something is: It does not tell her what it is and it does not tell her other things about that something; it only tells her that something is."

I woke up this morning, again remembering vividly a portion of the dream I had.

I seldom have a "dreamless" sleep or nap (I wrote "dreamless" because I surmise that a person automatically dreams as soon as her consciousness deactivates. To have a dreamless sleep, I think, does not mean that the person did not have any dream, but it only meant either that her conscious "forgot" or failed to copy what her unconscious dreamed about or that the dream was too usual or contained symbols that are too insignificant for her to remember).

Perhaps the reason I seldom forget my dreams is because I developed the habit of trying to decrypt even the most trivial and insignificant of symbols that I observe and gather not only from my dreams but also from reality itself.

This morning I woke up with a portion of the dream I had, again, still vivid in my mind:

I suddenly found myself atop a gigantic tree—a tree so enormous that I couldn't see the ground below. I was wandering alone on its enormous branches that were as broad as roads. Despite my solitariness and the darkness that soon began to engulf my surroundings, I did not feel any pang of fear or of hesitance to find my way off that tree. In fact, the rustling of the proportionately large leafs somehow soothed my being.

I went on walking for what seemed hours, until I saw a gape on a particularly larger branch of the tree. I did not hesitate to enter it, curious of whatever I might find there. I slowly realized that the path I was trekking was downwards the trunk of the tree. The parts on which I was walking had also started to get narrower and narrower. Darkness, too, became blacker and blacker. I was in that moment when fear began to seep into my senses. No matter how hard I tried, I could not suppress the fear that was permeating my mind.

Then, right before the darkness turned into blackness, I saw a pinpoint of light at the farthest end of where I was. (I am amazed until now to realize how, even in dreams, a flicker no matter how obscure or unknown could banish an overpowering fear in the heart.)

However, exhaustion had finally gripped my entire body. I suddenly coudn't move my limbs. I knew I was already a few hours away from that flicker when I heard strange noises. Becoming louder and louder and sounding nearer and nearer, the noise, I finally found out, was actually a great number of vicious-looking cats.

I could no longer remember what I was thinking during that particular scene—if I thought of running back out of the gape where I came from or if I contemplated on facing that band of horrifying felines—because even before the cats had begun to attack me, I was awakened by the ringing of the telephone.

The time was 10:30 a.m.