Mutual Aid Bedtime Stories

We feed our dreams as surely as we feed our bodies.
Media corporations know this and in these times of deepfakes and doomscrolling, they have more control over our imaginations than we might care to admit. But we can take back that power and nourish our dreams with what we most long for. We can tell stories of deepening relationships, of abundance, of all the collective care we have ever wanted. We can tell stories of nettle soup and friends to share it with, of uprisings and rest, of queer island sanctuaries and of what happens when jellyfish and humans unite in the struggle against overfishing.

I grew up in a culture with practically no oral story-telling traditions beyond bedtime stories for children. Until I started reading from my novels in squats, parks and bookshops, I had barely thought about these traditions that are as old as culture – as old as resistance – and I didn’t realise how much I had been longing for those moments of listening, telling and co-creating.

What might happen if we grew and regrew story-telling traditions so compelling that collective liberation becomes inevitable? What if our stories came from within our communities, expressing our needs and powering our dreams of something better?

With this project, I’m leaning into the part of my writing that is soft, supportive and hopeful. I want to focus on the elements of activism that build us up; the ways we come together to meet our needs without authorities or charities. I’ve been involved in grassroots struggle since the 90s with no intention of stopping anytime soon. I don’t want to bypass the difficult realities. At the same time, I want us all to rest so we can thrive another day.

For as long as we are trapped in these systems, momentary escape and deep dreaming can be medicine.