I press my face closer to the glass,
And cup my hands to the sides of my face
Next to my eyes,
And peer into my brain.
It’s dark in there.
Could someone turn the light on?
Maybe then I could see progress,
A machine in cognition, of sorts.
(No one listens to or complies with my commands.)
All I see
Is a reflection of myself,
And that’s boring
Because I’ve seen that face one-hundred-and-seventy-two times already.
(Maybe more than 172 times, actually)
And then something magical happens…
I wake up.