Dreams are hollow logs. An enclosed area, yet you feel so free, free to do almost anything, even things that would usually feel impossible. A place of pure imagination, allowing for infinite possibilities. Details; cracks, and crevices; dead ends, and loops; able to be observed and explored to an unlimited end. An everlasting tunnel that you enter one side and suddenly, without warning, exit the other, but when you exit, you have a hard time remembering the details. Yet, when you do remember, there are holes in it, flaws, even impossibilities, that you only really investigate when outside.