I entered by counting breath.
One.
Then another.
Then the number loosened and became a place I was passing through.
Before me rose a wall so tall the clouds had begun growing from it. Concrete climbed into a stormbank. Murk clung to its face in folds, filling the grooves, swallowing the edges, making wall and sky share one skin.
I stood before it from inside the dark behind my eyes.
There was wall above me, wall before me, wall where the sky should have widened.
I looked for an edge and found more wall.
Then—a thin light.
A thread of lightning.
So small against all that mass, so slender I might have missed it with a harder gaze. My attention found it and held. The whole field narrowed to that line, trembling down the center, alive with a brightness too fine to become flame.
It descended.
The lightning touched the wall, and the wall answered.
A seam moved through cloud and concrete.
The left side shifted left.
The right side shifted right.
The clouds stayed thick.
The concrete stayed immense.
The wall remained itself, and still, the way appeared.
I felt what I am watching, in my chest, in my heart.
I kept breathing.
The wall, while still there, is no longer in my way.
Thank you for taking this trip with me. I had fun. I hope you do too.
— Stomari
Filed under: Dream Narrative
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Kirenya is a creative studio weaving fiction, nonfiction, and hybrid works that move between dream, structure, and signal. Through multiple pen names, we explore layered meaning across stories, essays, and experimental dispatches.