There’s a video somewhere on the internet of a raccoon who has gotten his hands on a tuft of cotton candy. Off he goes to the river—he can’t believe his luck! He begins to wash it, as is his routine, but the cotton candy disappears, slips right between his fingers without his comprehension. That’s what my dreams feel like some days. I wake up and I can’t quite say what happened to them. Wrenched from my hands; lost to the river.
