While sleeping maybe?
That’s when your “counter world”, the one that mirrors beneath, stride for stride, thought for thought, seeps in, making dreams feel real but fake when you wake. Having you more than a little suspicious about it all. The worlds pantomime well for the most part, harmonic themes and exchanges, big to little, the changes. But there are breaches, occasionally. Like the goose I caught, thrusting through on a quiet street in leafy Vermont. Several nervous seconds later, she was gone. The grass spread a green patch over the hole. I waited a few minutes. I heard a honk, but it was a car. I heard a bark, but it was a smiling dog trying his best to sound like a goose.
