Once admitted that things are not what they seem, that the waking world is as fabulous as the dream world, then the boundary between inside and outside dissolves and everything collapses. But at the same time it all stays exactly as it was, only more so. This is the burden of the old formula, 'an X is not an X, therefore it is an X'. What was missing, what was preventing the X from being just what it was, was just what it seemed to be. You wanted things to be only tickets to themselves, yourself just to be a ticket to yourself that you were waiting to realise. The waiting, the wanting, was your hedge, a margin of provisionality, an insufficiency, perhaps a little breathing space too, but also the angel at the gate of Eden. So in the same way, desire, suffering no lack, because the lack collapses with everything else, is not desire, and therefore it is desire without object or subject and without process or result.