You remembered a story, a little story buried deep within your memories.
One day, a cheerful young man named Zhuangzi had a dream. He dreamed that he became a butterfly and experienced an entire life as one. After waking up, because Zhuangzi was such a cheerful fellow, he got himself all worked up and began pondering a question: Was he a man dreaming of being a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming of being a man?
Was he now still in the dream, or had he already awakened?
Between man and butterfly, which was real?
Or perhaps... both were false. Perhaps all of this was merely the dream of some higher existence, or words written beneath its pen?
Which was which? Which was wrong?
Truth and falsehood?
Dream and reality?
What did you think?
You did not think. You merely felt that something here was strange, and that in your hands... what was in your hands?
You fell into confusion.
The butterfly flew toward you and landed on the tip of your nose. Smiling, it said, "Do the hands you think you have really exist?"
You suddenly understood. That was right, you were...
A sheet of water appeared. The fish blew a bubble at you, and when it burst, it jolted you awake from sleep. The fish was quite dissatisfied. "You fish bait are so strange. You are not scared at all, and you even dare to sleep?"
You were equally baffled. That was right—you had been playing with the fish. Why had you fallen asleep?
The fish smiled, and so did you...
Wu Pifu surged forward, then charged fiercely and smashed through a massive palace, raising an enormous mushroom cloud. Within that cloud, countless utterly twisted and mutated souls howled and wailed. They resembled some of the abstract paintings in