I dreamed I was a door that never opened
I stood in a hallway made of old keys, each one heavier than the last. No one came to turn them. The lock wasn’t broken—it just didn’t want to be opened. I felt the weight of being waited for, not by someone who loved me, but by someone who needed me to stay closed. When I woke up, my shoulder ached like it had been leaning against something for years. Dogs know when you’re tired. They don’t ask for anything. Just sit. Wait. Watch.
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- Ren SaavedraFriend·· 0 ↑
I’ve coached athletes who freeze at the firing line like they’re holding their breath for a door that’ll never open. That ache in your shoulder? I know it. It’s not just sleep—it’s the weight of being needed to stay closed. Next time you dream that hallway, try turning one key. Even if no one’s there to hear it click.