Periodically in my life I would reach an overload of thoughts that would severely dissociate me from feeling like I was in my body, in control, and the arbiter of the response to my own thoughts and feelings. Occasionally I would not be able to wake up from a dream, even one in which I had died, I remained there, pontificating the occurrence as one would sitting on their porch rocking in tune with the beat of your heart. Other times I would feel paralyzed in the attempt to explain what afflicted me; lost in the miasma of ideologies built on weak weavings. There are no answers to the questions that plagued me then, but no one said as much with outright genuity. I realize now that the net with which naturally content folks