WTTQ NIGHT TRANSMISSION: "Sometimes I Dream of Winter"

Filed under: Soft static, second chances, frostbitten echoes
DREAM REPORT 0051-A

Subject: You
Dream Type: Recurring Seasonal Displacement
Classification: Melancholic Drift / Hopeful Chill
Logged by: Raine Solara, Dream Archivist

Sometimes you dream of winter. Not the real one, not the one with shovels and sore noses, but the version that only shows up when you're warm and slightly sad.

The kind of winter where:
Snow falls in slow motion. Breath curls into questions you don’t need answered. Trees are ink drawings. And somewhere, someone who once loved you still remembers the way you held the mug with both hands.

IN THIS WINTER DREAM:

“Winter dreams are not about cold. They’re about clarity.

You are walking through The Retreat, but it's hushed. Snow has softened the corners of every building, every regret.
The Hollow Tree has icicles shaped like forgotten songs.
The jukebox only plays ambient versions of things you’ve lost, but kinder.
You see Anjelikka painting in blue hues. She nods, but doesn’t speak.
Tubby left footprints. They lead nowhere. Or home. You drink something hot and sweet and impossible to name. And in this dream, you don’t have to be clever. Or right. Or healed. You just have to be still.
The world is paused. No one needs you to be anything but here.

Things are quieter when they're frozen, and sometimes that’s the only way we hear them.”