Jurisdiction of Dreams

WAKING IS THE DREAM

Verse 1

Everyone is very confident about the furniture

About the commute, the invoice, the appointment

They have consensus and they have it laminated

They have filed the extraordinary under disappointment

But I have been somewhere without floor plans

Where intention bends the local geography

Where I grew wings not as metaphor

But as a straightforward fact of being free

Pre-Chorus

They’ll tell you that the body is the realest thing

That the skull is just a cinema, not a country

But I have spent more hours truly living

In the place they call unconscious

than in anything they’d call discovery

Chorus

This is not escape — this is arrival

The waking world is what I survive

The dreaming is where I am actually operating

The dreaming is where I am actually alive

Every night I cross back into jurisdiction

Where the physics are more honest about what they are

The ceiling is a suggestion I fly through

And the sky behind it goes on

without a border, without a scar

Verse 2

I have stood on architecture that assembled as I walked it

I have spoken to the versions of myself I left behind

I have watched a city grow from a single note of music

I have held entire centuries inside a single mind

There is a texture to that territory

That this one — for all its insistence — lacks

Something raw and load-bearing underneath the dreaming

That the waking keeps on burying in facts

Pre-Chorus

I stopped calling it departure

I stopped calling it the absence of the real

The body horizontal in the dark is just the antenna

The signal is the part that gets to feel

Chorus

This is not escape — this is arrival

The waking world is what I survive

The dreaming is where I am actually operating

The dreaming is where I am actually alive

Every night I cross back into jurisdiction

Where the physics are more honest about what they are

The ceiling is a suggestion I fly through

And the sky behind it goes on

without a border, without a scar

Bridge

I have read their literature on consciousness

They are still arguing about the anteroom

While I have been living in the deeper architecture

Rearranging every chamber, every room

Lucid means — I know that I am there

And knowing that I’m there means I can steer

Means the world responds to what I’m carrying

Means that what I want to see — appears

This isn’t wish fulfillment

This is closer to the truth than anything

that happens in the so-called waking —

where everyone agrees to see

only what the group decided

was worth taking

Verse 3 — The Return

Morning is a border crossing, nothing more

From the country with more oxygen and color

Into the country with appointments and opinions

Where everyone is certain

and nobody remembers

But I carry the coordinates inside my sternum

A frequency that daylight can’t erase

I know where the real jurisdiction is

I know how to find my way back to that place

Outro — Ascending

Waking is the dream (waking is the dream)

Sleeping is the waking (I am already there)

Every night the membrane gets more transparent

Every night I need less altitude to clear it

Waking is the dream (waking is the dream)

The dreaming is the ground (the dreaming is the ground)

I am flying in the only place

(the only place)

I have ever

(ever)

actually

(actually)

been found

Genre feel: Ambient art-rock — Sigur Rós atmospherics underneath Thom Yorke’s harmonic restlessness, with a bridge built on a single piano note that multiplies into a full orchestral swell, then drops to breath and heartbeat for the outro.