“The Clock with No Hands”
“The Clock with No Hands”
I dreamed of a clock without hands. It didn’t tick. It breathed. When I woke, the one on my desk was gone. Only the faint outline remained—like a burn in the wood.
by Cristina Davenport
I’m 19 and. I wake up almost every night at 3:33 a.m. with the same dream: empty streets, smoke, laughter and screams that don’t belong together. I created this blog to record what I see when I close my eyes. I’m not looking for fame or answers. I just want to understand what’s been chasing me since childhood. If you dream too… maybe this place is for you.
“The Clock with No Hands”
I dreamed of a clock without hands. It didn’t tick. It breathed. When I woke, the one on my desk was gone. Only the faint outline remained—like a burn in the wood.
by Cristina Davenport
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