I remember standing there, my throat tight, the words caught somewhere between my chest and my lips. It was a recurring nightmare, this feeling of having something vital to say
I remember a period in my life, maybe fifteen years ago now, when I was completely overwhelmed by a recurring dream. It wasn’t raw meat, not exactly, but it was
You know that feeling, right? That nagging sense when a dream just sticks with you, a silent film playing on repeat in your mind long after the morning prayer. It’s
You know that feeling, don’t you? The one where you’re putting in all the effort, but it feels like you’re actually moving backwards. I’ve been there, staring at an unread
I remember it like it was yesterday: the cool night air through an open window, the soft weight of my old blanket, and then, a voice. Not a loud, startling
I remember a time, years ago, when a friend of mine, a truly good soul, confided in me about a recurring dream. She’d see this beautiful silver chain she always
I remember a time, years ago, when I woke up with this incredibly vivid dream of biting into a piece of piping hot bread. The steam was rising, the crust
I remember one night, years ago, waking up in a cold sweat. The rhythmic drumming I’d heard in my sleep wasn’t some distant thunder; it was the sharp, insistent crack
You know that knot in your stomach? That cold, sinking feeling when you realize something precious, something you depended on, is just… gone? I’ve felt it more times than I
I remember it like it was yesterday, the sheer panic in my chest, the acrid smell of smoke clinging to the dreamscape. It wasn’t a real fire, no, but the
