Lede
Last night my ex-wife and ex-girlfriend met in my dream. Even the moon covered its eyes.

What does not make sense

• The universe sending messages through a soap opera in my head.
• Fate booking a double bill just to remind me I once dated chaos.
• Thinking they are both secretly thinking of me at 3 a.m. across time zones. Lovely idea. Very unlikely.

Sense check

This is not destiny. It is housekeeping. The brain files old scenes when the lights are off. Sometimes it throws two folders into one box and labels it “Deal with this, you coward.” Thanks, brain.

The sketch

Scene one: Ex-wife pours tea like a judge.
Scene two: Ex-girlfriend offers biscuits of regret.
Scene three: I argue with a lamp while both take notes.

Possible meanings, translated

• Unfinished business: you owe a boundary, not a bouquet.
• Nostalgia trap: memory edits the bloopers and keeps the highlight reel.
• Lonely o’clock: you miss peace, not a person.
• Growth ping: your heart is uninstalling an old patch.

What to do about it

• Drink water. Dreams hate hydration.
• No midnight scroll. Your feed is not a dating app for ghosts.
• Write three lines you wish you had said, then bin them.
• Keep the lesson, lose the courtroom in your head.
• New pillowcase. New chapter. Old you can stay logged out.

The Hermit take

When the past throws a reunion party in your sleep, you decide who gets a taxi home. Choose silence. Choose rest. Choose the you that woke up.

Keep or toss

Toss the guilt tapes. Keep the lesson and the laugh.