I dreamed such vivid dreams last night in the White Mountains, a series of bizarre scenes that arrived with the force of revelation. A world without the color green. A man who repainted all the seashells on the beach. My parents appearing and disappearing in a parking garage filled with water. These dreams had a heat and pulse that reminded me of this quote from Haruki Murakami: “It felt as though a fragment of real life had slipped into my sleeping mind by mistake. Then the moment I awoke, it fled like a quick-footed animal, leaving no trace behind.”
Suicide – Keep Your Dreams
Suicide | 1977 | More
Each night in 2020 I wrote a short post for a series called Notes From the End of a World because I want to etch these times into my memory before I forget them. Before the world changes completely.