Happy Friday, everyone! Let’s dive into today’s prompt.

We call ourselves “oneironauts” for short (meaning a dream sailor), though management prefers the stuffy “dream technicians,” or “DTs.” 

Whatever. I’m off the clock now, so you can call me whatever you like.

You ever wonder how we unwind after a long shift of fixing your nightmares? It’s not all warm milk and counting sheep, I can tell you that much.

Tonight, I’m sitting astride my souped-up bike, Night Mare. She’s a beast of a machine, all black with a low rumble that you can feel in your bones.

This isn’t your average motorcycle. I’ve tricked her out with some… let’s call them “special modifications.” 

She’s got the power to take me places you wouldn’t believe. Places that stretch the limits of what you’d call “real”

I gun the engine, and we tear down empty streets slick with the residue of forgotten dreams. 

“Where to?” you might ask. 

Well, tonight I’m headed to the Subconscious Speakeasy, a little joint tucked away in the folds of the dreamscape. 

It’s where we oneironauts go to swap stories and unwind. You need to know the password, of course, and it changes with every rapid eye movement.

I downshift, leaning into Euclidean Avenue. The Night Mare responds instantly. 

We swerve past a pothole that’s actually a portal to someone’s childhood memory.

Then we narrowly avoid a flock of flying cicadas – someone’s anxiety dream bleeding into the streets again.

As we approach the Subconscious Speakeasy, the world around us starts to blur. 

Buildings melt like Salvador Dali clocks, street signs rearrange themselves into cryptic messages. I park Night Mare next to a lamppost that’s growing leaves and whispering stock tips.

I swagger up to the door, which looks like it’s made of liquid mercury. The bouncer, a seven-foot tall rabbit in a zoot suit, eyes me suspiciously. “Password?” he demands, tapping his pocket watch impatiently.

I lean in close and whisper, “Theta waves ride alpha tides”

The rabbit’s ears twitch, and for a moment, I think I’ve botched the password.

But then the door swings open, revealing a haven of soothing colors and gentle rhythms – finally, a place where even dream technicians can let their guards down and truly relax.

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Hey, I’m curious about all you.

What aspect of a Dream Technician’s life intrigues you most?