Illustration by Mark Weber

When it comes to my dreams, I’m generally unfazed by spotting polar bears in my bathtub or falling in love with a guy I haven’t seen since fifth grade. What strikes me as odd is that I’m always walking through dreams without my wheelchair, yet I still can’t maneuver stairs. This unexpected new reality is just one of the many puzzling things that I have noted about my dream world since becoming a high-level quadriplegic.

Dream Me is independent and has a full range of motion. Despite showing no visible signs of paralysis in my dreams, my legs often lack confidence. I move slowly, step gingerly and reach for handrails. In dreams, I’m a seeker; I search, and solve puzzles. Recently though, locating accessibility features has become a bizarre recurring theme in my twilight quests. Dream Me has no issue with seemingly endless hunts to locate an elevator in outer space or wandering through labyrinths looking for barrier-free exits.

I’ve started to wonder: Is my subconscious obsession with accessibility unhealthy? Clearly, the theme is relevant to my life, but with my limitless subconscious at its disposal, why isn’t my brain giving me th