*Pinch*

I just woke up from a nap. I'm not sure how long I was sleeping.

Strange... I have a book in my hands. It's still opened up to the last page of the last chapter. I remember intending to read it, though I don't remember picking it up before I fell asleep. Actually, I don't remember falling asleep at all, now that I think about it. What an odd coincidence; just a moment ago, I'm certain I was dreaming about reading this very book. In my dream, its words made me forget who and what I am and was... and though I'm beginning to remember myself as the "me" I am now, I still can't shake how eerily real the dream felt, as if I were reading to myself from my own memories - but somehow experiencing them for the first time. As I continue to wake, I'm aware that a distant part of my mind is still frantically calculating the possibility that I may have things backwards: that my dream might have been my real life; as if—even while I know I've just returned to my native form and my original reality—I might still be asleep at this very moment. But I can feel the ink on the pages in the book slipping faster and faster out of my mind, as is to be expected when waking from a dream. Thus, I must be awake - right? Of course. As the words of the story dissolve back into the arbitrary neural ether that imagined them, I am remembering that I was not the story - I was simply dreaming about reading a story.

Well, then, now my groggy paranoia has been indulged and sated. I suppose I should probably put this book down and get back to reality. Now, I just need to remember what I was doing before I fell asleep...