A cotton candy PlayStation startup screen on the edge of conscious and subconscious. There’s a tiger beneath that invisible surface. With each breath, the tiger draws me back from my waking life back into the dream state. Splashes of turquoise, indigo, fuchsia; smoking, dripping, cascading at the ethereal walls of this chamber.

The morning comes. I plug my phone to the charger and see its red battery icon. As the phone begins to charge, the tiger scoffs at this synthetic extension of itself. A product of the waking world.

There’s power in this chamber. Drifting back into the chasm of lucid dreaming, I find myself in the cockpit, the powerful seat between the universes of imagination and the tangible realities of the waking world.

A portal cracks open. I am the conduit. The universes flow through me.