One time I woke up and I didn't know who I was. I had no idea. I don't remember how long it lasted, maybe not long, but it was profound. I was thinking just now about translation and language and how we translate ourselves into bodies of words. I was thinking about last night's dreaming. I know I was working diligently on something important, but I can't recall what it was. I suppose it's another life, in a way, but it must be a translation of a kind, of waking life, and waking life must be a translation of the dream life, mostly without memory. Who are we is the ultimate question and we'll ask it until we die and are translated beyond this body into the realm of dreams.