The dreams I have been experiencing as of late have been far too potent as of late. I feel as though in them I am being told so many truths of the nature of the things we spend our lives contemplating as well as visions into my own fate. I tried to listen with as much attention I could muster when they gave visions of love and the tales they told moved me deeply. The problem was that when I awoke I was unable to recall any of the details.
For this reason I decided I would make a log, but I could not do so with pen and paper nor keyboard and screen as such mediums are insufficient when it comes to such matters. The very nature of the written language disturbs me greatly, each character mere random lines and curves we have given arbitrary meaning to and told ourselves that they must invoke in us certain thoughts and feelings.
Instead of a pen, I took up an ax and headed to the woods. I found a nice old tree, one that had already fallen and experienced both life and death and began to chop away. I cut as close to the roots as I could while still having a neat section of trunk. I took the log back home and at first tried to set it beneath my pillow as that would be where it could best log my dreams, but as one would expect that plan was fundamentally flawed as it did not mesh well with the notion of me actually being able to fall asleep so I set it underneath my bed instead.
Even having set up that dream log, I feel as though I had not done much in the way of making it so much as finding one, and while perhaps such truths are found rather than made just as some believe mathematic principles are discovered rather than invented, nonetheless I decided to find a seed and plant it. The seed has since sprouted into a nice little sapling and once it has matured I will be sure to nap beneath the cover of it leaves during the lazy days of summer. Hopefully these logs will retain the truths better than my mind and hopefully I will be able to study the logs to learn of their content.