What is the difference between dreams and reality?

Awakening dawn light signals ascent into conscious awareness,
civilizations on the cusp of paradigm shift seeking
enlightenment within, heralding world changes without.
Verdant fields of golden light beckon souls of a similar brightness,
while aloft spears of spirit soar, consciousness attentive to transmutation,
brilliantly bursting illusory laws of gravitational boundaries effortlessly,
spinning into silence. The music of the spheres sublimates sense
and sensation alike, revealing the profundity of pain,
the subtle whispers of ignorance, vaporized in the intensifying
light of enlightenment's searing awakening.

Flowing rivers of color dotted by ponds of dark potentiality waver
and thrust bullishly through conglomerations of desire,
birthing new paradigms, thought modes and processes conscious
of their singular nature. Bursting upon the scene aware
that there is nothing new under the sun, swift repetition
of ancient patterns establishes the codex, chiseled in stone and bone,
inscribed in the marrow and genetic code of amoeba
and homo sapien sapien alike, synthesizing aeons
of energetic permutations and every, single incarnative
urging of probability's unique, quantum directive.

A conch shell of Infinite size sounds, the bass bellow of Being
reverbrating within the Absolute, imbuing Creation with consciousness,
the word heard, omnipresence leading to omiscience which then,
through action, heralds omnipotence's virgin birth,
black hole multiversal conception being the inception
of sentience made manifest upon the material plane of existence.

The bass booms, gentle thrumming augmenting
the conch's funky vibrations, the cosmos created to the beat,
the eternal tapping of Divinity's galaxy-spanning feet.

9-ether emanations tingle like feathers upon the soul,
tickling shivers blending pleasure and pain,
sensitivity to the sound of an atom clapping on the other side
of the multiverse a warm knowing birthed in sacral spaces
scored for universal dissemination. Orchestral haunts echo the tuning
of forks and instruments designed to awaken minds, while time continues
to flow down the rabbit hole, indicative of the state of our individual souls.

Evening replaces noon's heat with circadian rhythmic songs,
birds twitter in time, the conch's notes grown long.
The feet of divinity slow an infinite nano-second of soul
blown by astral breezes past the branches of ghostly trees,
their potent seeds free to traverse chronological fallacies
in search of truth, burrowing among the roots,
dirt and skin beneath the nails of sin, scratching
at the seedy underbelly of the subjective perceptive,
a collective invective of sarcastic sneers.

But I just judge the game, I don't play. Before I sleep, I dream,
visions like scenes of a fantasy's ilk, encompassing the organic goodness
of mother's milk from which I've weaned y'all,
smiling and chuckling to myself as portentous night falls,
and slumber calls me to rest, the spiraling precession of knowledge
realized as the sole condition of life's eternal test