{"text":"And I dreamed of a home long ago in New England, my little kitkats trying to go a thousand miles following me on the road across America, and my mother with a pack on her back, and my father running after the ephemeral uncatchable train, and I dreamed and woke up to a gray dawn, saw it, sniffed (because I had seen all the horizon shift as if a sceneshifter had hurried to put it back in place and make me believe in its reality), and went back to sleep, turning over. 'It's all the same thing,' I heard my voice say in the void that's highly embraceable during sleep.","author":"Jack Kerouac","tags":["dreaming","dreams","reality","void"],"id":25295,"author_id":"Jack+Kerouac"}