For the mornings a dream leaves something heavy behind, a weight you carry into the day without ever knowing its name.

Deep indigo, the dark of deep sleep, lead beneath. It carries the cool of stone and the quiet of a room before dawn.

A dream's residue can't always be named, and chasing the name just deepens it. It reads no dreams for you — it holds a quiet place to let the heavy thing settle, named or not, until it loosens on its own.