You sometimes glimpse it, the further dimension. When you drove through a cloud for the first time as a girl, on the brightest, bluest day, over the road to Oregon, you beheld it. You sensed the fog of a realer world overlaying ours. Did you? You knew that it was. You had always felt there were other worlds, and inside that cloud for four seconds, your conviction grew solid in your chest.
Late at night, when you are driving with few cars, and taillights vanish into a haze, your anticipation grows quickly, with the clack of tires on the highway. A cloud crosses the road, and you are in the midst of a world intersecting ours. Too real, too true to be seen clearly by our minds.
Wide open, keep those eyes. Those glorious, cloudy intersections.