... in Idle Thoughts

You imagine a story composed of nothing but dreams, one after the other, weaving together and overlapping, without substance or plot. The characters drift together and drift apart, again and again, changing faces and speaking in different voices. Everyone is everyone else eventually, or no one is anyone for more than a moment. Nothing is ever resolved. Or else resolution is reached again and again and again, in different ways, then falls apart into conflict again, beginning again, over and over and over.

You imagine a story like that, and wonder who would be able to write it. Who would be able to twist through the labyrinth and not lose direction and balance. Who would be able to keep it all going, and how they would know when to stop.