Awareness unfolds like petals and I climb slowly out of my sleep, emerging reluctantly from my subconscious. I crawl through that first instant of awareness, the moment when neither time or space or self exist, until I find myself tangled in bed sheets, face down on my pillow. Peering out of the haze filling my mind, I recognize the edges of sensation - softness, dimness, silence. I am anywhere in the world, or I am nowhere, for nowhere exists to me yet. In this moment before I recognize my existence, I am without place or time and I am no one. Standing on the peripheral of consciousness, it always feels the same.
The daylight melts away outside my window, casting shadows in orange and blue on my walls. I emerge on the other side and as far as I know I have awoken the same person who fell asleep an hour ago in her quiet apartment in Korea. I have woven this life, this person, from dreams however, just as surely as if I'd been the creation of an hour's sleep. I think about this moment for a long time, where everything and nothing are exactly the same, and I imagine there is some great truth lying in its shadow. I am drawn to that instant because deep down I seek nothing. There are things I want, surely, but I have no idea what they are. When waking I find contentment in the idea that seeking nothing will bring me everything, because in the end, it's all the same. And, if I don't know what I want for the future, my everything is after all, nothing to me yet.