Last year, when I moved into my place after having had my things in storage for a while, I fell victim to leafing through long lost books and notebooks as I was putting them away.
In one notebook, among mostly lyrics that grew up to be songs, I found a few scribbled lines that had been confined to those pages since 2008. It really wasn't many, but they were probably the most honest thing in the whole book - which, I reckon, is why they remained in there. After all, it's really hard to uphold denial with honesty.
But it was 2020 now, and I had long since moved on, and these few lines screamed at me to be given a tune, so I did.
Our reality is supposed to be just a mental construct. I don't know enough quantum mechanics to fully understand that idea - but I can honestly say, it seems like a series of dreams that one really struggles to wake up from, despite the best attempts.
Looking back, I find that eventually I always woke up, although it usually took a painfully long time.