Reality of day and night & everything in between

I never understood what it's like to be a person. What does it even mean? I feel like I've been a 'thing all my life'. You wake up in the day, you do some stuff, these set of activities , these routines, you go to school you learn and you gain knowledge and experience and stories, that merely exist in the time that you are awake. That you're aware. These routines these interactions with other elements and people they, shape the way we see ourselves. We give ourselves a false sense of individuality in the company of other people, other stories. That's only because all of us, at that time of awareness, are sharing the same temporality, you know? We see time and assume time in the same way, we become the same thing in this set up. In this system. 

And as the world sleeps, when everybody loses their herds and groups and relevance to one another, as we lie alone in our beds, stripped off of our stories we start to shed these layers of skin that we've gained during each day of pretense. We shed these layers and slowly fall into slumber and enter a world of a multitude of possibilities. Of realities. Here in our sleep we forget time entirely, we forget space entirely. We redefine our experiences through our subconscious that has so much and yet so less to call an identity of its own. It is the night that truly let's you see who are. Nobody.

 It's the dreams that free your inhibitions, the thoughts you never thought, the feelings you never felt and images that you could never render in the shared temporality of your normal world, you day world. And that's utterly terrifying. 

And those of us, the few who chose to remain observers during the nights as the world enters another world, devoid of each other, we try to understand our place in this complex labyrinth of existence. We question realities as we observe our loved ones stripping off their own and wandering away with their naked innocent souls resting against pillowcases. And we just sit there, bury our heads in our books, in our minds trying to understand what is real and where do we fit in? 

I don't know what's easier , to adapt a masked identity and let it burn through your skin taking up permanence in the light of day, while transforming into complete nakedness and nothingness as you welcome your vulnerable night sleep or to exist in both these temporalities and forget who are entirely. 

Do you remain an object, an experiment of reality or do you madden yourself questioning until wee hours of the morning?