It’s a veil covering the possible, an exception to reality’s binding contracts. It’s the invisible phoenix thread that sears intricate patterns into destiny’s tapestry. Countless tears fall on its uncultivated reasoning, its blunt insistence to live without excuses, and die without grief. Feeding off embers and contenting itself with scraps, it lives on like an engine of forever. It needs nothing but the raw, asks for nothing but your all.
The character for dream: 夢 (yume in Japanese and meng in Chinese)