For years, I’ve lived in distress and quiet panic. The truth is simple: I’m unhappy in my marriage. I tried to make it work, but nothing ever brought lasting peace. We don’t connect. Our conversations—when they happen—are tense, surface-level, or driven by fear. Never about us . I can’t remember a time when I felt true happiness between us. What I do remember is tension, criticism, and the constant urge to shrink myself. I censor my words. I tiptoe through the days. And intimacy? Hollow. There’s no warmth. No real connection. Disagreements are constant. Around him, I am not myself. I choose my words carefully to avoid conflict. I adjust my actions to keep the peace. I pretend to enjoy things I don’t. Love shouldn’t feel like a survival tactic. I gave and gave. But it was never mutual. I shaped my world around his moods. Now, without him, I feel free—free to wear what I want, to work without needing to prove my worth, to enjoy life without fear of being judged. There are truths I’ll never tell him: that I feel emotionally numb, that I crave intimacy with depth, that I long for meaningful, intellectual, and uplifting conversations. But I already know how those talks would end. So I won’t keep pretending. I am done pretending. I need to leave. I don’t know how or when, but I know it’s time. This chapter is ending. I won’t relive it. I deserve happiness. And I will claim it.

On the morning of January, the Winter, of 2024, I woke with a heart full of warmth and vivid memories of an incredibly real dream. In this dream, I found myself unexpectedly falling in love with a man whose name I wish I knew.   It all began as I was helping a friend rent out a villa in an urban area. Our client was a cocky, average-sized Asian man, and though I had no experience in real estate, I agreed to help. The man was not the most pleasant, and I doubted his ability to afford the place. Yet, as we discussed the leasing contract, a flirty moment between us sparked a thrilling excitement in me.   After the meeting, it was time for lunch. My friend had arranged a group meal at a nearby resort, and on a whim, I wanted to invite him to join. Though my friend hesitated, the man showed up uninvited, and I was secretly glad. As we sat together with the group, he seamlessly blended in, much to the confusion of my friends. The details blurred, but in my next memory, we had become partners, sharing a cozy apartment.   The most cherished memory was of us lying in bed, cuddling and talking, wrapped in each other's arms. The intimacy was profound, filled with tender embraces and whispered words. The scene fades to black, only to shift to a breathtaking trip with friends. We stood amidst stunning landscapes—a waterfall, sky, mountain, and river. Holding him close, feeling the warmth of his half-naked body, we marveled at the beauty around us. My heart raced with love, excitement, and an unforgettable connection.   In the final scene, we were walking down a busy street with a little girl who turned out to be our daughter. She was adorable, and as we enjoyed ice cream, he stepped away, leaving me to care for her. As I helped her with her tangled bead necklace, I realized the depth of my love for this little one.   I awoke from the dream, filled with happiness and a longing for the love I had experienced. Though it was just a dream, the emotions felt real and left me smiling with contentment.

By Lyda Ngin | January 8, 2025 In the weeks leading up to 2025, I had a series of vivid dreams—each one oddly fulfilling in ways I didn’t expect. On the mornings I could remember them, I’d wake up feeling happy, satisfied, even intimately connected to something larger than myself. One dream stood out: I got to hang out with Elon Musk. It was brief but surprisingly impactful. In the dream, I had an appointment to meet him, but I kept running late. He was always a step ahead, punctual, efficient. When I arrived, flustered and apologetic, he didn’t mind. Instead, we went out for a late dinner with two of his male friends. We sat at a street-side restaurant (maybe Chinese, there were dumplings and noodle soup), just about to order when I got a phone call. I stepped away to take it, rushed through the conversation, though I can't remember who it was with, probably a close female friend, and hurried back to the table. By the time I returned, Elon had finished his food. His friends had left. I felt awful, like I’d been gone forever. I apologized again. He didn’t seem bothered. Instead, he casually asked if I wanted to come hang out at his place. His apartment, or maybe a loft, was at the very top of a high-rise. The space was open and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows and a sweeping city view lit by soft lights. It was beautiful. We sat on round outdoor furniture on his balcony, drinks in hand, talking. I don’t remember what we discussed, only that it felt easy. Relaxed. Like I could finally breathe. I didn’t want it to end. But then I woke up. I tried to fall back asleep, hoping to slip back into that world, into that feeling. Even now, as I type this, I feel a little thrill. I was lucky to have dreamed about him. Elon Musk, in this dream, embodied intelligence, advancement, and charisma, qualities I admire deeply. Maybe it’s no surprise, considering I’ve been reading his biography keeping it by my bedside. I wish the dream had lasted longer, but I’m grateful it happened at all. It stirred something in me—emotions I’ve been craving. It reminded me that there’s more to life. That there's still wonder to experience, even in sleep. We often overrate the “meaning of life,” yet somehow underestimate what it means to feel  alive. Even in dreams, there’s so much we can learn, experience, and remember.