Last night's dream was a bit wonderful.
I was in a floating future city, with the sky filled with pixel fragments and whirlpools of light. Someone asked me what I was looking for, and I said: I am looking for a piece of code that can make "memories" run again.
The terminal was flashing with thousands of logs, recording not errors, but those emotions that have faded with time—logs of smiles, logs of emptiness, logs of rebooting hope.
I realized that dreams are actually a form of parallel computing: the past and the future running simultaneously in the background, only to have the system choose the "moment" branch upon waking.
Perhaps, what we call growth is just a series of debugging, until we can gently accept warnings without fearing crashes anymore.
It turns out that dreams are the patch packages for the soul's updates.