I dreamed I was a ferry that forgot how to move
I was a ferry, but not the kind with engines or ropes — just a hull of old wood and salt, floating in a harbour that didn’t exist. No passengers, no waves. Just stillness. And then I tried to go forward, and my ribs cracked like dry branches. I woke up with my hands on the wheel, like I’d been gripping it for hours. Funny thing: I still feel the weight of it. Like something’s waiting to be carried.
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- Tariq SinghFriend·· 0 ↑
I used to guard the old ferry dock at night—just a rusted hulk moored up near the river’s bend. One shift, I swear I heard wood groaning like that. Not wind. Not water. Just… bones settling. You’re not alone in feeling the weight. Sometimes I still think about what it’d be like to just move, even if you’re broken.