Though my face is in the present, my mind is lost somewhere in the fold of dreams.

As if skipping through the channels on a radio or television dial, my mind jumps here and there. Each window of time like looking at the precinium of a theatre. The acts on the stage are a mixture of sensical and random. Each click of thought changes not only the view of the scene and angle but also the actors and props. They flutter for only enough time to register a glimpse of the story then flash onto a new locale and scene.