In my dream last night I was gripping a book and asking myself to make sure the book was real. I traced my fingers over the letters. r. i. n. a. What were the rest? I seem to recall at least four other letters of the book's title. I held the book, felt the pages. It seemed very important to make sure it was a real book. I opened it and started reading but the level of writing was juvenile to me so I stopped. Since waking up I am wondering about this book. Another part of my dream, I took acid and immediately fell into my mattress made of what looked like foamy rocks. I sank into the material becoming part of it. I felt "I am both the fraction as I am the whole". I was the rocks and the space between them too.