What form does our dreaming take when the fate of our flesh is linked to the probabilities inherent in a quantum superfluid? Who imagines synaptic nanotubules in multiple dimensions generating spontaneous thought? Is mind the primary stuff of Cosmos or should we continue crushing rocks into smaller and smaller pieces to reveal its nature? Are particulate clouds of matter the slow and heavy gravitational residue of a conscious universe? Or does this ubiquitous space dust self-assemble into a holographic model of the entirety of space-time-mind? Is the system alive? Is consciousness the first force? Is this awareness of space-time the echo of an eternally recursive thought? Does our endless desire drive us to the edge of an infinite emptiness? And is it love that brings us back?