INTRODUCTION

Back when my dreams felt like premonitions for the future, I dreamt that I lived in a cottage by the river. An emerald and blue landscape housed a wooden house, framed by two parallel lines of poplar trees. Directly left of the neighboring forest ran a gentle river, creating a calm aural experience. In the dream, I’m making my way through a worn down path by selecting the best leaves to crunch. It’s almost autumn, I hear myself whisper. The dream ends before I make it to the cottage but I see it from a distance.

Over the years, the dream recurred. Sometimes, I’m inside making myself chai. Sometimes, I’m taking a metal bucket over to the water to collect some for washing dishes. Sometimes, I’m sitting by candlelight, pouring over paperwork and writing feverishly, as if my life depended on the words spilling out from my nib.

I know this is my cottage because there is never anyone else present. I once tried to force another person to enter the dreamscape by closing my eyes really tight and imagining them to pop into the landscape. All that did was make my eyes feel tired.

I know it’s me because I am doing things that bring me joy and happiness. I never happen upon a reflection of my face to know for sure, but I know it’s me.

It feels like me.

I know it’s me.

I know it’s me

because I’m living in the cottage by the river.

It’s a little further away from the river and a little more shrouded in trees than dreamt but, I made it! I create magic, plant living beings for other living beings, cook a new recipe and clean up the mess; I do all these things and so much more. But above all, I sit lit up by the laptop screen, pouring over the keyboard and typing feverishly, as is my life depended on the words spilling out from my fingertips.

I can breathe here and finally be free.