A sentence floats up while you are walking to the corner shop, and it is truer than anything you sat down to say on purpose. You were born with Neptune in the third house, the house of everyday speech, the chatter with siblings, the short errands the mind runs all day, so your thinking happens in pictures more than in lines. You answer a question and three other people at the table look briefly lost, because you skipped the steps that felt obvious to you and landed somewhere lovely and sideways. Your best ideas tend to surface in the half-sleep, half-dissolved, and you have learned to keep something to write on near the bed. Practical things pay for this gift, staying smudged when you talk around them in images instead of saying the plain version. Keep both voices: the one that dreams aloud, and the one that says, in flat clear words, here is the thing, here is what I need. The dreaming mind can still send a clear text message. It just has to choose to.