I open my eyes and the silence is complete. My eye lids flutter and I hear distant echoes of swords crashing together, and pained cries of men as they fall. Against anothers steele, and the fearful whiniying of horses on the battlefield.

My hand, familiar with the routine, finds the snooze button and I drift back to the battle willing the 5 minutes I have into an hour, a day or a year in my dream.

Some mornings I’m so disapointed when I wake up. On the weekends I eagerly close my eyes to go back to where I was. A hot tropical paradise, a battle in the seven kingdoms (Game of Thrones reference), an underwater world, a reality where I’m smarter, thinner, luckier; not single, not a girl, not 24; courageous, defiant, magical; older, wiser, successful.

I’m a conscious dreamer. I know when I’m dreaming so I build my…