Drift is a quiet, private corner for the things we half-remember when we wake up. The teacher with no face. The flooded staircase. The cat that could read.
"Last night I was a librarian on a train that had no rails. The books were warm."
We keep notebooks by the bed. We scribble before the light comes in. We don't try too hard to interpret anything — we just like that the strangeness gets written down before it dissolves.
Drift is non-commercial. We are not therapists. We do not analyze dreams for a fee. We do not sell journals, courses, or tarot decks. There is nothing to buy here and nothing being offered for sale, ever.