I dream vividly. In my dreams, part of my inhibitions overcome barriers and enact themselves. They unfold like water, cascading smoothly and soundly as a waterfall. I also dream about my fears. These fears tug at me in real life, and although they resolve themselves in my dreams, they never do while I’m awake. I don’t know why these fears are so difficult to dissolve. They smell and feel like small cubes of brown sugar, painstakingly dissolving in a cup of tea until a spoon taps solidly against the cube and breaks it into tiny fragments. Yet they remain, these fragments, clusters of tiny granules glued together. Those are my fears, a fear of not knowing where I’ll end up 10 years from now, a fear of not knowing love, a fear of having to children to love, a fear of living life in a void, a fear of drifting in and off a dream.
