You know, I dream. A lot. Possibly too much. I daydream with my eyes wide open, and obviously, I night-dream with my eyes tightly shut.

The daytime dreams don’t scare me. They’re curated, intentional, like Pinterest boards of my future life. I want something—anything—and my mind launches into full cinematic production: scenarios, possibilities, entire dialogues. I even mentally draft a five-phase plan to bring the madness to life.

But the night dreams? That’s where things get… unpredictable.

My nighttime dreams fall into every genre imaginable. I’ve got the grandparents category—those bittersweet dreams where I wake up with a lump in my throat, longing for their kindness and warmth that no longer exist outside memory. Then there’s the thieves category—those dreams are so vivid that I’ve woken up in a cold sweat, too terrified to switch off the light for hours. I’ve had flying dreams, earthquake dreams (always on the top floor of a collapsing skyscraper, because of course), wild jungle-of-the-subconscious dreams, and my personal favorite: the epic novel-style dreams.

Last night? One from the epic-novel vault.

These are the dreams with layered narratives, multiple characters, mysterious places, and an outrageous amount of detail—like my subconscious is ghostwriting for HBO. Every time I have one of these, I wake up thinking, “This could be a book. A trilogy, even.” I honestly don’t know where my sleeping mind finds all this imagination.

So, here’s what went down last night:

A story somewhere between spy thriller and romantic fantasy. There was a ship—an enormous, creaky one—and I was held captive on board along with a few friends. Naturally. Things escalated. I ended up leaping off the highest mast (because logic!) straight into the ocean. Not just any ocean. This one was called The White Ocean. I mean, come on, doesn’t that already sound like a bestselling title?

In real life, I can’t swim to save my life. But in the dream? Oh, I swam like a mermaid on a mission, while glancing nervously behind me—because, plot twist—a giant shark was chasing me.

My underwater goal? To find and dive under a mysterious stone gate, hidden in the depths. That gate led to paradise. And I swear, the moment I got there, with all its ethereal light and inexplicable calm, I almost wanted to stay. I still kind of do. If someone knows the GPS coordinates for that stone gate, hit me up.

All this action was to protect a leather notebook—no ordinary Moleskine, but one filled with secrets and codes, belonging to a kind gentleman captured by some very not-kind gentlemen.

That’s the short version. The actual dream? Layers upon layers. Scenes. Flashbacks. High-stakes drama. Honestly, if a Hollywood director had dreamt it, there’d already be a teaser trailer.

So yes, my nights are… eventful. Some people count sheep. I, apparently, dodge sharks and save secret agendas in imaginary oceans.

What can I say? My dreams are where I live other lives. Lives where I’m brave, where I swim, where I leap into the unknown—and sometimes, find paradise at the bottom of the sea.

Sweet dreams, fellow adventurers. And if you ever find The White Ocean, take me with you.