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What beautiful music they make.

Weird dream last night. I was in an office building with a couple of teenagers. The floor we were on was flooded with black water. We assumed the elevator was out so I suggested we take the stairs. Just as one of the teens asked “the stairs to where?”, the corner I was turning became a dark back hallway with peeling paint on the doors. A 6-year-old version of the teen ran past me in terror, and I turned the corner to go up to what I knew was the attic. To face what, you ask? Just at the climax, I could no longer see and my head was forced to the swiftly side by cold, thin fingers. A fingernail lightly grazed the jugular on my exposed neck. Vampires! I lashed out against the arms, only to find that my wife was trying to wake me up so I would stop screaming. Oops.

2 replies on “What beautiful music they make.”

I’ll pass the kudos on to my sub-conscious. The visual detail in the dream was quite vivid, unlike last night’s round, in which all I remember is seeing myself on the Jumbotron wearing an old sweater I thought looked ok but was informed was not only ugly, but womens.

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