Dreams are really interesting to me, and occasionally I turn a few of my own dreams into images. These images are entirely subjective and the descriptions below are intentionally cryptic, usually sentences taken from what I wrote down in my journal immediately after waking up. I really enjoy making these.

The lake yawned and gaped, open and black behind me.

Taunting whispers and secrets.

Peach pink and stucco and you. And me, knowing I wasn't supposed to be there occupying that space and breathing that air.

Always positioned away from my gaze, always facing your domain. Underneath, a deep sadness labors and toils to keep you happy.

This wasn’t a dream. It was an exploitation. Resurrecting a dormant longing and satisfying it with a falsity. I’ll have nothing of it.

I waited for a long time, expecting the entirety of the world’s wisdom to come flowing out of her mouth. I waited for her to solve all of my problems, fulfill all of my insecurities, dispel all of my fears. But she never spoke. She only stared. And I only waited.

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