My subconscious no longer speaks to me.
My subconscious no longer speaks to me.
My dreams are strange at the best of times, but when I take Melatonin to help me sleep, I seem to descend into a Seuss-like subbasement of my subconscious, a place where only Salvador Dali would feel at home. One time I dreamed that there were several giraffes walking on water, headed straight toward my …
The View from a Drawbridge 