"Do my phantom lives dream of me?", or "Call me Billy Pilgrim if you must, but I'm no spaceman..."
Sleeping hours filled with lives lived in divurgent timelines leave me feeling restless and drained the following day. If only I could go a night without, maybe I could get a decent night's rest. The dream realm is either completely forgotten by day or remembered so vividly that it's hard to believe it was all a dream. It's somewhat disconcerting to awake and find yourself safely in your own bed when just moments before you were off in some distant place living out a life that might have been, could have been, should have been. There's no telling what may have happened for things to have turned out differently for those Other-Seans, what pains or heartaches they went through to get where they were. Not all of them are in enviable positions, either. I've pitied some for the way things turned out for them. For others, I'd give my left arm to trade places with them, to live out some of the dream lives that they live out for such a short time while my body shuts down for nightly repairs.