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Bed time belongs to the sensible. Dream time belongs to another dimension – it's where I go to find the other side of bed; though I never get out on the wrong side.
I belong there, I become. The twin tortures therein, are having to go alone, and hoping that the results can be transcribed. If you could recall my flight, it would land safely, every time; to have to share would make it matter more.
As I depart, destination unknown, but first stop never far; my main concern is to start writing the journal down, before I finally fall...

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