It is only in our dreams that we can display our secret longings, heavily suppressed thoughts and our entire subconscious lives that are too superfluous to be shown to others in reality. It is only in our dreams that we can go through elaborate fantastical adventures and rejoice in the products of our imaginations that are too private to be shown in real life. It is only in our dreams that we are allowed to do things that would normally be deemed insane, outrageous or perhaps emotionally and socially illegal without being judged.
Our dreams are our secrets housed in the sanctuary present in each of our minds. It is like a room that is tightly sealed, walled from the ceiling to the floor so that none of our secrets can leak out. In short, whatever happens in and to the room is up to us. For all I care, the room can be the private boudoir with a large tiered bed in the middle where you can lay your head on the fluffiest, most comfortable pillows that have ever existed. For all I care, the room can be so much larger than the boudoir, with an entire world of its' own, consisting of millions of fictitious characters and places inspired by the people in the real life, the books that you read or anything that your mind fancies.
Sometimes I wish that there is a door placed in everybody's sanctuaries that would lead to the many highways interconnecting each and every one of these sanctuaries. The owner of each sanctuary have the power to do anything they want with the door; keep it under heavy locks and chains forever to keep others' out, invite a certain conspiratorial other in to join the fantasies and adventures that you've written at the time or walk through the door and journey through the highway seeking invitations from others into their own room.
And whatever happens in the room, stays in the room.
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