lastfm / letterboxd / myanimelist

before waking, i was dreaming of an african dictator who had built a vast golden building in the middle of a city where his life and everyone else’s never seemed to meet. he claimed that people loved him, that they sang to him in admiration. his wife, however, appeared uneasy, insisting that the songs were dark in nature, filled with ill intent, even if he refused to see it.

immediately after, i opened my eyes, unable to move. in the corner of my room, there was the shadow of an older man singing. it was a low, guttural sound—something like tuvano throat singing. it felt entirely real.

still carrying the logic of the dream, i addressed him with caution, as if speaking to authority, and told him i liked what he was doing. upon hearing me, his behavior shifted abruptly: his movements became erratic, almost animal, like a chimpanzee, and he began throwing books at me.

the realism of it all tipped into panic. i tried to scream, and eventually managed to wake myself. i chose to remain awake after that.

what stayed with me was the sense that everything had been connected: the dream, the songs, and the figure in the room.