What you are going to see below you are words that I call Bits. This is not their permanent name. This is just what they are called right now, while they are still being created. I can not justify or even begin to take on the task of naming them when I don’t even know where they are going to end up yet. What their final form is going to look like. So right now, they are Bits. Because that’s how I’m writing this story. One bit at a time.

So, what is a Bit? Here, in this tiny section of the internet, a Bit is a part of this story ( we’ll get to explaining that soon ). The way I write these is completely different from the way I write anything else. I don’t write them with thoughts I write them with… feelings, images, things that make sense in their own way but are very hard to convert into any spoken or written language. They don’t follow regular rules or grammar guidelines, and they aren’t supposed to. I write these in a free form, poetry-type of format, but they are not poems; I don’t want you to mistake them for that. They are their own story, individually, and someone else’s story when put together.

Who’s story? A girl’s story. This story is about her; but not really about her. It’s about her dreams. Not dreams as in, goals or aspirations. Her very literal dreams. They aren’t like yours. They are somewhat like mine. Her’s are physical; real. But only to her, and only while she is dreaming. This story is surreal. This story is often very beautiful, visually. This story can also be very, very dark. Every good dream has the potential to become a nightmare, after all.

Now, as they are dreams, there are no hard rules to any of this, not even to how you are supposed to read them. If you read them, these ‘Bits’, as it were, in just any old order, you would get something along the lines of a more ‘realistic’ dream experience, in the sense that you will start off with a lot of missing information, bounce around the timeline a lot, and if you remember everything, every last detail, you might be able to realize what the complete story was at the end of the line.

But you won’t remember everything, just like you don’t remember all of your own ‘real’ dreams, either. These works of mine will be akin to what goes in on your own head at night. Confusing. Subconscious. Trying to impart a greater message and failing, not for lack of anything on their part but for lack of our ability to understand.

Or, you can read them in the order in which I present them to you. I can not promise that this is their true order, or that there is no ‘forgotten’ information. These are tricky things to write, after all. I do not write them on purpose, you see, they just… exist, but only when they want to come into existence. What I can say is that by reading them in the order I give you, you will have something of a story-line. A bit like a novel. Quite a bit not like a novel. Perhaps it will even be as long as one, one day. Perhaps not.

However you choose to read it, you will probably find yourself asking questions along the way. Perhaps one you will ask is why she keeps choosing to go back into these dreams because yes, it is a choice. But every choice has consequences. Even the choice to stay awake. So I ask you this, in turn. Are you aware of your own choices? Of your own consequences? The ones being inflicted upon you, right now? Are you even aware of what is a choice, and what only appears to be? Can you then be certain that what you call reality doesn’t just reside inside your own head? Do you know what is real, and what is not? And if you did, how could you be certain that you wouldn’t do anything, anything, just to get away from it?

So, really, this isn’t about her dreams either. Perhaps it’s not ‘about’ anything in particular. Perhaps it just, is. Maybe, we just don’t know what it’s about yet. Maybe, it’s about you.

How do you know that I even exist outside your own head?

-Emma Lou

---

Follow her story.

One bit at a time, hand delivered, with a digital bow. (Please don’t hold me to the digital bow I don’t actually know how to do that.)