Some days ago I was overcome with a bout of illness. That night I had fever dreams and through my fever dreams I accessed the Akashic records.
My fever dreams brought me to someplace called coma of a thousand poets. And some ancient bazaar
I walked around seeing lifetimes as dead objects
Seeing that every time one is sick the time lost bothers subconsciously but there's no reason to because it will pass and over the lifetimes it's the same thing over and over
I was a bush, I was an elephant I was a stretch of road
But over the eons it was the same because the time spent sick is minimal
But then there's illnesses that change entire lifetimes but the good outweighs the bad even in those.