The Contours of a Dream
by Tinyrainboot

I awaken in a world that isn’t mine. Eerie and desolate, the weight of a loss I can’t quite remember washes over me. I thought I knew what time was, but it has lost its meaning in a dawn that stretches its fingers toward eternity. The air is different here: sharper, thinner, lighter. Can you imagine the sound of a planet where you are the only one breathing? I do not know if this is future or past, whether this place is forgotten or still unknown. My unspeakably fragile vessel of sinew and synapse is all that carries me forward. Have I been here before? Or am I simply tracing the contours of a dream?

“Your visions will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.”
― C.G. Jung