Last night I had two dreams, but the second supplanted the first, and now all I can remember is a vague sense of unease. I know that the first dream was a post-apocalyptic thing, and I know that while I was having it, it seemed so real, so concrete, but then it dissolved into nothing at all.
For a time, you cannot convince yourself that what you’re seeing doesn’t exist anywhere but behind your eyelids, for a time, it is your life, your existence, but then slowly you return to yourself and it’s like trying to piece together the bits of a bubble that’s popped.
It’s not a dream I wanted to keep, by any means, I remember that much. But still, it’s so odd that the imaginary can feel so concrete.