These days, I’ve taken to viewing life as a series of moments that vary in importance based on levels of awareness.

What’s that? No clue what I’m talking about? Well, I don’t really blame you because that sentence was CHUNKY. But stay with me here for a second, if you can…

You know how the best dreams are the ones that happen when you’re dead asleep? For some reason, they’re more vivid, more memorable. I kinda feel like life is just the opposite. Sometimes you seem to stagger through weeks at a time, barely awake. Time seems to mean less, somehow. Then there’s those times where you’re walking around, just marveling at everything. You start to wish every small moment would last a lifetime, or at least be permanently etched in your memory so you can relive it again and again.

When I was little, I used to think that I could actually control my dreams. I would lay there in bed with my eyes tightly shut, and I’d form a really specific picture of what I wanted to dream about. It didn’t always work, but whenever I did dream about something really cool I felt like it was an accomplishment. And the more I thought about them, the easier it was to remember them and maybe even have them again later. Now that I’m older I tend to take my dreams for granted. I seldom dream, but when I do the details are quickly forgotten.

Socrates said that the unexamined life is not worth living. Looking back over the past few years, I feel like I’ve been walking around half-asleep, because I only recall the most important bits and pieces. But that ends now. Because you know what I think? A life lived unaware… it’s not worth remembering.