I used to remember dreams. Lately they're just... empty.

In ICU I listen to alarms all shift, and I think I've trained myself to erase the quiet parts. My dreams these days are just a room with no one in it, a clock with no hands. I started writing down what I can grab in the morning — even if it's one image, one bad smell, one line of a song that wasn't there when I woke. Keep what used to slip away, I guess.