I closed my eyes.
I found you at the door of a white house.
I knew it was a lucid dream.
You took my right hand.
We went inside.
There were different people in the house.
You would stop and talk to each of them,
but our hands never separated,
not even for a moment.
My eyes caught the carpeted stairs.
I was waiting for you to finish talking
so we could go upstairs.
But I woke up.
I was always curious about what was up there.
When I saw the first visions,
another door opened for me.
I sat in meditation,
hoping to see
what awaited at the top of the stairs.
I saw it.
There were more stairs,
suspended in space.
This time, I was alone.
You were at the top of the stairs,
standing beside a door.
I climbed those stairs a thousand times,
but before reaching the top,
I would fall asleep—
because climbing them was deeply soothing.
Finally,
one day,
I reached the top.
I had always thought
that if I opened the door,
a hidden green garden would be behind it.
The door opened.
It was a wheat field,
with a single tree.
maybe the nearest wheat fields
to the stone coastal village—
the same place
where we reached peace,
in each other’s arms.
I found you at the door of a white house.
I knew it was a lucid dream.
You took my right hand.
We went inside.
There were different people in the house.
You would stop and talk to each of them,
but our hands never separated,
not even for a moment.
My eyes caught the carpeted stairs.
I was waiting for you to finish talking
so we could go upstairs.
But I woke up.
I was always curious about what was up there.
When I saw the first visions,
another door opened for me.
I sat in meditation,
hoping to see
what awaited at the top of the stairs.
I saw it.
There were more stairs,
suspended in space.
This time, I was alone.
You were at the top of the stairs,
standing beside a door.
I climbed those stairs a thousand times,
but before reaching the top,
I would fall asleep—
because climbing them was deeply soothing.
Finally,
one day,
I reached the top.
I had always thought
that if I opened the door,
a hidden green garden would be behind it.
The door opened.
It was a wheat field,
with a single tree.
maybe the nearest wheat fields
to the stone coastal village—
the same place
where we reached peace,
in each other’s arms.
by From Saint Agnes to Egypt February 8, 2026
Get the Wheat fields mug.The act of forcefully inserting anything painfully narrow into the urethra, or getting dicked in a way that feels like your piss hole is being industrially sanded. Often mentioned in the same breath as regret, tears, and internal screaming.
by LackOfHats February 24, 2026
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