At night amazing things come to us. It's like it's a different world. It has the same
landscape and furnishings and some of the same people, but what happens is different.
I wonder if I am schizophrenic. No one has ever suggested that I am. But I believe I live in two different worlds. who is the real me? I have a hunch it's the one in the other world.
What I have here just can't be real. It was dreamed up by a madman. (I am not blaming God, not saying He's the madman).

Explanation? Not much, but it probably has to do with genes. I had evil genes in my
ancestry, and I am a result of them. MS, Porphyria and Polycythemia Vera are a plot to
first cripple my early life (MS and Porphyria) and then bring my later life to a horrible end (Polycythemia Vera). but there is another me which will emerge, butterfly from this
hurting caterpillar.

So when you have good ideas and wake up with them, you are bringing back thoughts from another reality. And it's real, where that came from. Just doesn't fit here.