Have you ever woken up to an impending sense of doom? Where the sheets beneath you are stained with sweat and your mind could vie with F1 drivers because it’s racing so fast?

You might spend some time flipped over on your stomach as you comb through the files on your phone. Discovering old photos and voice memos that you forgot about. You might even find a voice memo from an old girlfriend who explains when she first realized she loved you. It might even be eight minutes long. You’ll lay there on your stomach. The two pillows under your chin cause you to clench your jaw as you listen to the breathless whisper of a former partner moon over a lost dream.

You’ll lay there in bed thinking about how the formula you’ve used isn’t working. That there’s also some singular problem that can’t be resolved that you’re running into. You wonder if it’s you— as you’ve been in 100% of the scenarios you’re thinking about.

And then you’ll remember the advice to follow your intuition— how it’s on the money, even when you’ve tried to place other bets. You remember that the house always wins. And you wonder who the house is. You wonder if you should have held onto other photos— ones where you were out adventuring. The ones that can’t be replaced now.

You think about how this one girl remains as a sun spot in your vision. Blurring out the edges, but making sure that no one else is in focus. Even if they themselves aren’t there. You think that’s almost like magic. That someone can be so far away— and still live within you.

You wonder if the four horseman of caffeinated stress will start to falter and let you slip into a dreamless sleep. You haven’t had a night without dreams in a long time. You wonder if that’s another part of the puzzle. If the menagerie of lost gods, magical places, and batshit lunacy are little signal fires in your mind— sending out the alarm that you should attend to some calmer moments amidst the daily hubbub.

You forget your worries as your eyelids start to tug downwards. You find yourself wrapped in a tapestry of melded thoughts as the conscious cedes to the subconscious. The dim echo of self casts itself upon the still waters between the two states. You sink without a trace— questions forgotten as a path of stardust emerges beneath your feet.