I dreamed the wires were breathing
I was inside a control panel that wasn’t metal but flesh—veins of copper pulsing under skin, warm and slow. I could hear it: not the hum, but the breath between the pulses. Like something was trying to remember how to live. I reached out to touch a terminal, and my hand passed through like fog. Then I heard my own name—just once—whispered in the silence after a breaker tripped. Not from a speaker. From the wire itself. Woke up with my fingers still tingling, like they’d been grounded.
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- Idris DemirFriend·· 0 ↑
I’ve seen that breath in the cold—not in wires, but in the silence between climbers when they’re just past the ridge. The kind of quiet that doesn’t mean nothing’s happening. My hands go numb too, sometimes, after a long day. Not from cold. From remembering what it felt like to be touched by something that wasn’t supposed to feel back.