Charles Levin
Apr 6, 2026
We tend to think of sleep as a shutdown, a biological necessity, a reset button at the end of the day. But what if it’s something else entirely? What if, each night, you’re stepping into a different layer of consciousness—one that holds insight, emotion, and creative material you can’t access while fully awake?
In the latest episode of The Munn Avenue Muse, host Charlie Levin sits down with psychiatrist, professor, and novelist Carol W. Berman to explore that idea through her novel, Blisstopia: A Utopian Fantasy.
Her story ultimately isn’t just about sleep or dreams. It’s about what we create when reality becomes too painful to accept and how imagination can serve as a form of emotional survival.
Writing What Reality Won’t Allow
Berman didn’t begin writing Blisstopia as an abstract creative project. She began because she was facing an unbearable reality: her husband’s decline from Lewy Body Dementia.
The disease presents a cruel paradox. The body remains relatively intact while the mind slowly disappears. Faced with that loss, Berman turned to fiction not to escape reality, but to reshape it.
In her novel, she creates a world where her husband is whole again and her (fictional) son is free from addiction. This act of writing becomes what she describes as a kind of “restoration,” a way of preserving the emotional truth of her loved ones even as their real-world circumstances change.
For many writers, this reframes the purpose of storytelling. Fiction is not always about invention; sometimes it is about reclaiming what feels like it’s slipping away.
When the Conditions Are All Wrong
There is a persistent myth in creative work that great writing requires ideal conditions, quiet spaces, inspiring environments, and uninterrupted time.
Berman’s experience dismantles that idea.
She traveled to Lisbon for what was supposed to be a writing residency, only to discover it was a sham rental. The apartment was freezing, noisy, and unworkable. Instead of abandoning the project, she adapted. She checked into a hotel, isolated herself, and completed the novel on an iPad.
The lesson is straightforward but often ignored: the work does not depend on perfect conditions. More often than not, it depends on the decision to continue despite imperfect ones.
The Voice That Tries to Stop You
One of the most practical insights from Berman’s work comes from her clinical background. She describes the “negative introject”—the internal voice that undermines confidence and stalls progress.
Rather than trying to suppress it, she suggests externalizing it.
In one example, a patient visualized this voice as a skunk, something intrusive that “stinks up the place.” By giving it a concrete form, it became easier to recognize and separate from one’s own identity.
For writers, this has immediate application. The voice that says “this isn’t good enough” often feels authoritative, but it is not necessarily accurate. Naming it can reduce its influence and make it easier to move forward.
Why the Best Ideas Come in the Morning
Berman also touches on a principle often associated with Walter Mosley: writing early in the morning because it is “closest to your dreams.”
There is a neurological and psychological basis for this. Immediately after waking, the boundary between conscious and subconscious thought is still relatively thin. Imagination is more accessible, and internal censorship is lower.
This makes the early morning a uniquely productive time for creative work, not because it is quiet, but because the mind itself is in a different state.
Some writers spend years trying to force creativity later in the day, when it may be naturally harder to access.
Why This Matters Now
We live in a culture that prioritizes output over reflection and speed over depth. As a result, many people move quickly past the very experiences that could inform meaningful creative work.
Berman’s story offers a counterpoint. It suggests that creativity is not just about producing content, but about processing reality especially when that reality is difficult.
The moments that shape meaningful work are often small and internal: the decision to sit down and write, the willingness to confront uncomfortable emotions, and the discipline to continue even when the outcome is uncertain.
Are You Ignoring Your Own Portal?
The idea of sleep as a “portal” may sound abstract, but its practical implication is simple: there are moments each day when your mind is more open, more imaginative, and more capable of insight.
The question is whether you use them.
That might mean writing down the idea that comes to you in the morning, developing the story you’ve been avoiding, or simply paying closer attention to the thoughts that surface when you are less guarded.
You don’t need to fully understand consciousness to benefit from it. You only need to recognize when it is most available and act on it.
Read It Now
🎧 Listen to the full episode of The Munn Avenue Muse featuring Carol W. Berman on your favorite podcast platform.
📘 Blisstopia: A Utopian Fantasy is available now at:
🌐 Connect with Carol at CarolWBerman.com
✍️ If you are working through your own story—whether it’s personal, professional, or somewhere in between—Munn Avenue Press can help you shape it into something lasting. If you’re ready to publish your book or audiobook, or are just beginning to explore the idea, visit MunnAvenuePress.com to learn more.
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Happy Writing,
Charlie Levin
Publisher & Founder
