It happens sometimes when I am dreaming.
I catch myself thinking, “Hold on—wait a second—dogs don’t sing,” or, “I don’t work for the government,” or, “Swimming pools don’t fly.”
And in that moment, I know I am dreaming. What I thought was real dissolves like mist. It’s a projection—shimmering at the edges, ready to disappear.

But here’s the question: what if we could wake up like that in the waking world? What if we could peer at the stories we tell ourselves, the identities we wear, the solidness we ascribe to our lives, and say: Wait a second… this isn’t real either, not really.

This brings to mind khomar, a Pashto word I learned on my podcast Fifty Words for Snow from Afghani guest Sanjar Qiam describing a state of dreamy wakefulness.

Fifty Words for Snow is all about exploring words without direct English equivalents—those linguistic........

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