"Daydreaming" Radiohead

I have noticed that as of late, every time I travel, something bad happens at home.

When in Israel-- Guiena Pig #1 died, When in Sedona-- My Uncle died, When in San Antonio, S.O. went to the E.R., and now in Madison-- Guiena Pig #2 died. Not sure if this is a bad omen or just dumb luck.

When I'm on the road, I usually dream. I rarely dream when at home. In San An, the dreams were bad-- horrific, actually. The wakeyouupsweatingcantgobacktosleep kind of dreams.

This trip the dreams have been filled with effervescent bubbles so bright in color and hue--

I am talking to someone in my mind. There is no sound. No visual.

Only the words, like on a screen or a piece of paper typed out.

The words talking to me share secrets. They seem real, as if there is an actual person attached to them.

The words I hear in my head make me feel something. I try to construct the vision of the person-- what they may sound like, what they look like, but it doesn't materialize.

I question if this is Limerence? That makes me seem crazy.

I decide that it must be SIRI or some AI Bot that can say all of the things that you would think an actual person would say, but it is only an illusion-- and remind myself you are dreaming This is a lucid dream.

After a time, the words stop coming to my memory. The effervescence of the bubbles diminish. It grows darker. I can't hear or see them. I wonder if this is what madness or dementia must feel like-- losing the person slowly, bit by bit, piece by piece, until there is nothing left of them.

At the end of the dream, there is nothing but a large bubble that moves close to my face. I reach out with my index finger and pop the bubble, its wettness hitting my eyes and face.

Then I wake up.