Aotearoa / Student
After weeks of dreamless nights, a tension grows at the base of my neck and spreads to my temples. My hair has started to fall out; clumps of it gather in the corners of rooms. I hate it. On the rare occasion I do dream, I am always lucid and remark to myself how real it is. The divide between sleep and wake feels mutual; mirrored somehow. Each is defined by the other. I am often surprised, that it is this world I wake to and not the dream world.