Lilog224ever
Some dreams fade with the morning. Others refuse to let go.
At 4:33 A.M., I woke up gasping for air after one of the most vivid nightmares I've ever experienced. A rising flood. A wave that came without warning. My late brother. My mother. My dog, Kodak. A tiny pig. And a desperate fight to reach the surface before I drowned.
This is a collection of the dreams that stay with me long after I wake-raw, unsettling, emotional, and deeply personal. Whether they're reflections of grief, anxiety, healing, or simply the mysterious language of the subconscious, these pages preserve them exactly as I remember them.
Some dreams are forgotten.
These are the ones that refuse to be.