I stopped watching television years ago.

After the accident, screens of any kind made me uneasy. The flicker, the artificial light, the way images moved without being alive. I got rid of them all — computer monitors, phones, even digital clocks. My apartment became a quiet place of books and candlelight.

Then the dreams started.

Every night at exactly 3:33 AM, I'd wake to the sound of static. Not in my ears, but inside my head. A low, constant hiss like an untuned television. And with it came images — grainy, black and white scenes playing across the darkness behind my eyelids.

At first they were abstract: snow falling upward, clocks running backward, empty rooms with furniture that breathed. I'd watch until the static faded and sleep pulled me under again.

Then the scenes became specific.

I saw places I'd never been: abandoned subway stations, overgrown playgrounds, hospitals with corridors that stretched impossibly long. Always empty. Always silent except for the static.

The worst nights were when I recognized things.

My childhood home, exactly as it was before the fire. My parents in the kitchen, moving in slow motion, their mouths opening and closing without sound. The Christmas tree lights blinking in patterns that spelled messages I couldn't quite read.

Last week the dreams changed again.

I was in my current apartment, watching myself sleep. The television I'd thrown away years ago sat in the corner, screen filled with snow. My sleeping self sat up slowly, turned to face the television-me, and smiled.

When I woke for real, the clock read 3:33 AM. The room was dark and empty. But I could still hear the static, softer now, like it was coming from inside the walls.

This morning I found something new.

In the corner where no television has been for years, there's a faint rectangular outline on the wall. Dust-free. As if something had been there recently, blocking the accumulation of time.

The static is almost gone now. Replaced by a low hum, like a set warming up.

I think tonight it will finally find a channel.

I think I'll be on it.