“I’m writing,” I’d say. “You’re just sitting there.” “It only looks like I’m sitting here.” “Are you not sitting there?” “In many ways, that is exactly what I am not doing.” This is what a dream looks like. It looks like you, trying to do an impossible thing in your head, while you sit there, doing what appears to be nothing, wondering how to explain that the apparent doing-of-nothing is in fact, you hope, something.
