Inside my head there is a story with plots and angles, arcs and curve balls, twists and turns, reality and make believe, mystery, assumptions and clever word play. Inside my head there is a dream where clarity resounds and bleeds into fuzz and fur, where the abstract becomes meaningful and reality becomes the nightmare, contained. Inside my heart there is a man who is part story, part dream and daydream. I can see it but dismiss it. I hear it but then forget it. When I feel it, only then do I fully understand.