In dreams, I sifted through people from my past. Observing and half-participating in circus-like scenarios of lucid consciousness. Emotions were amplified, especially the insecurities buried just deep enough to occasionally forget. Sometimes I relived a young relationship gone bad. I'd wake up feeling the same longing of lost love I endured back then. After money dreams, I beamed with a ripe sense of accomplishment. Like when I found an antique timepiece worth $16,000 or uncovered endless mounds of coins under a back stairwell in Whole Foods.
My dreams were vivid replays of waking thought patterns. They showed me wounds I was still rubbing with salt and progress I hadn't given myself credit for. I wondered if my life in dreams used to be more magical. Had reality taken up residence in a once limitless landscape?