I don’t dream much anymore, which I’m honestly quite thankful for.
When I was little, I used to be able to sleep on my back, but there were stories of sleepwalking, night terrors, and things like me mistaking the closet for a bathroom. I’d bet there were a few nights where I screamed out or stood at the foot of my parents’ bed, just swaying back and forth, unnervingly quiet. Most people don’t remember their dreams. For a lot of us, it’s probably because they’re either inconsequential, nonsensical, or immemorable. For me, I’m positive it’s a defense mechanism. I can’t ever remember having a good dream and my nightmares get more… creative as I get older.
I’ve always believed that certain people have a skill or affinity for seeing through the veil that separates our choices and minds from other worlds with different decisions, physics, and metaphysics. I often wonder if certain artists and writers can actually peer to