There is a wispy, esoteric consciousness that lies between sleep and awake. A place where you can confront your fears and speak to the dead. You stalk through the livid memories of previous days, months, years, playing out the what-ifs in a grand romantic fallacy. It’s in this naked, judgeless state of half awareness that you enjoy a sense of clarity, a tangerine perfection. With the roiling urgencies of life snuffed out, you have the chance to commune with raw reality and, anything is possible.