From everything you’ve written about your sister, it sounds like it’s not easy for her either. Eventually one of you has to take the leap.

NOVEMBER 18TH, 2016

I think I figured it out. This whole dreamdiving thing.

I’ve been trying more to fall asleep on command and instantly dreamdive and that really clicked when I went into Aaron’s dream the other night. He was having a nightmare, a nightmare I really don’t want to talk about, and there’s honestly no point in writing it down because, trust me, I am NOT going to have a hard time remembering it, but the important thing is that I changed it. The right way.

I was watching Aaron struggle, fight against the fog that overwhelmed him, and I just wanted it to stop, but I couldn’t grab hold of the fog to change it. I tried to swat it away with my hands and it was like the whole dream glitched, the picture flickering, like the connection was bad. I knew I was close to succeeding, could feel the fog fighting back, so I gathered as much air in my lungs as I could, breathing in deeply, inflating like a balloon, my lungs impossibly full, and then blew out, pushing the fog apart and away and sending both Aaron and me hurtling through the dark.

Then, all at once, I was eight years old, in a memory, and the dreamworld that had molded around us felt like the old times. It made my heart feel warmer and more at peace than it has in months.

And it hasn’t stopped there. I’ve been going into dreams for most of the past few days and it’s extraordinary. I keep unlocking new levels of this ability and with each one comes a new rush of adrenaline, a renewed feeling of belonging and rightness. I think I’ve even been in my family’s waking subconscious, a thorny and unpredictable place that I seem unable to control, sometimes staticky and hard to see, like when I went into Emily’s head in the urgent care. But otherwise, I’m able to make a dreamworld in my own vision—the fluffy, cotton-candy clouds of the dream with the airplane I went into at the AM; the sunny bright skies above Fenway Park; a stretching, red-orange canyon that I can skate over like a weightless bird; tall, ancient trees that branch above my head, blanketing my entire field of vision in shimmering leaves.