The Sea Dried Up and I Kept Singing

I started this dream on a city bus and ended it at the head of a boat—singing a language I didn’t know, calling people home from the wreckage.In between?Glass ceilings that shattered on command.Starving fish that bit but didn’t mean harm.A collapsing bridge, a message from the dead,and a stranger who said, you’re finally here.This is a dream about survival that refuses to be small.About being mistaken for a victim—until you remember you’re the one doing the calling.Welcome to The Sea Dried Up and I Kept Singing.Stay if you’re ready.Swim if you’re not.