Essay · Fiction · Rudimentary Philosophy

Talking in My REM Sleep

In another life and with another brain I would have made myself pupil and master of language. Instead: I tiptoe on the precipices of residual memories that spill out from suppressed synapses. I desire nothing but the nine-minute intervals between hushing the waking bells I've fooled my mind the night before into believing will penetrate… Continue reading Talking in My REM Sleep