Last night I dreamed my ears were so clogged with wax that it had to be removed in a thick, steady stream. It felt endless—like years of buildup coming loose all at once. The strange part? She was there. The former friend. The one I cut off after realizing how toxic her presence had become in my life.

In the dream, I asked her to call my mother so I could get money to pay for the removal. She didn’t even hesitate—she just disappeared. No words, no explanation. Just gone.

Even in sleep, she abandoned me at the exact moment I asked for help. Just like before. And yet, her absence felt clarifying. The blockage—the buildup—wasn’t just physical. It was emotional. A slow accumulation of things I hadn’t wanted to hear, things I forced myself to tolerate, moments when I needed someone and she simply wasn’t capable of showing up.

Maybe this dream was my body’s way of telling me: You’re finally clearing her out. Not just from your contact list, but from the place in your mind where you still thought she might be good.