'So, here goes. I am going to write out some of my dreams, the ones where I am convinced that somewhere, someone, simultaneously is dreaming them too. And I know that often they are just fragments of dreams. That they are little more than the frail, dust-tattered wings of moths caught in the full glare of daylight. A shadow of those moments shared, distorted through the prism of the cold, hard light of waking hours.
But I've tried everything else I can think of. Attended dream seminars, consulted sleep therapists, read quantum physics theories, talked to psychics, mediums, doctors, tried hypnotherapy, regression, progression... at the end of the day, all I am left with is my dream diary. A pile of battered spiral-bound reporters notebooks in which I jot down all I can remember from the night before. They sit on the bedside table each night waiting for the next installment. A year's worth of writing. Moments of simultaneity. '