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“Postcards from Space” is a new weekly feature in which I will provide pieces of my current visual [read: fashion] mood alongside textual musings pertinent to the metaphysical realms that feed such inspiration. Allow me to beam you up.

What is reality, and what is a dream? Does the discernment actually matter, if we experience both as our own personal realities? A bee buzzes past my ear, a metal toy bounces over steps, an engine revs- in space, like in an old-school sci-fi film- and I sprint through a stadium, large and engulfing and filled with a vast emptiness. Drums clash around me, a bass thumping to my cadence. I stop, and I am surrounded by the soundtrack of the universe, the music pulsing as though a part of me, embedded within my DNA, as I levitate, floating to each measure. I pursue on, but the stadium doesn’t end, and I’m not mad, and the path lights up visions, appearing before me as wild beauties of my subconscious. I can see and feel the stars and the heavens all around me. Questions become answers and doubts become truth. Don’t wake me.