It’s dark here.

Soggy, almost. No. Musty? I don’t know. The world is vague, except for a few gleams of dots and patterns that occasionally cross my vision. Otherwise, it’s just a gray haze that I lie in, until, that is, it falters into another reality.

Losing consciousness is a waiting game that takes time—the longer you think about it the longer it takes. The longer your heart races in excitement about falling into a world that is only and truly yours, the harder it is to fall asleep.

I’d say I’m waiting somewhere in between reality and my dreams; a blank and empty sub-reality that will fade into whatever dream my mind places me in. Eventually.

I want to say that it started two weeks ago, but I can’t be sure. I don’t know how long I’ve been controlling my dreams; maybe I only realized it two weeks ago. Maybe exploring the depths of one’s creativity inside of their minds while dozing is an ability we all posses, but not one we all can get in touch with.

Here I wait, trying to clear my mind, trying to open the vaults to my brain that trap my dreams inside. That’s my theory, at least. A loss of consciousness is the key to open them. And when you’re excited about dreaming and your excitement envelopes your mind, the key is pretty damn hard to get.

My thoughts are interrupted by an abrupt and brilliant light that seeps through the haze and gray and darkness. The world swivels and takes form as I watch my surroundings and my torso and legs come into view.

It’s time.