Fantasy and Reality

I truly believe fantasy (and perhaps hope, too) is a gift from the gods.

When I was little, and also into My teenage years, the time before sleep used to be one of the most exciting ones of the day. I'd close My eyes and just...dream. Fantasize. Create. Remember and develop memories. Sense and feel. If was imagining that I'm flying and would really concentrate, I'd have the sense of lifting off from the bed and floating. It felt like magic because it didn't matter if it was real or not. Perhaps also because I was doing it before bed, My subconscious would let Me play in those blurred lines between the wakened states and I could fully relax into it, it was so easy.

Now I also play with others' fantasies. It could be just a natural extension of My secret hobby from childhood, but getting into people's heads and their desires and helping develop them drops Me back into those very pleasant states. I like the slowing down, the noticing of what arises, the sound of the heartbeat, the breath, the pause, the surprise of the next thought and words. 

I whisper in your ear. Or did I just bit it?

Was what I said true or did I just make you believe it? Sense it? Feel it? Be convinced of the experience of it?

If you felt it, then it's true, right?

And then I laugh. A moment disturbed. In fact, brutally brought back to be awakened. You search for reassurance in My loving eyes as to what has just transpired.

Perhaps it doesn't matter.

Perhaps it's whatever I want. 

Dreaming,
Eve