Dream
As a premise to this dream, my mind concocted that there was a Camus novel in which the protagonist eventually steps in front of a train. This dream was set in this novel. Occasionally the dream would see this person on the platform, or something, or just stepping out in front of the train which would obligingly slow down and stop in front of him, matrix-style. The rest of the dream was actually me, on top of this train, moving at rather high speed. It was in a tunnel, but the light was too much and too natural to be a subway. There were signs on the roof that I would whiz by, and was idly wondering if one of them would hit me.
Sory for the interminable silence from here. Not a lot going on; not a lot of inspiration to write about what does.
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Sory for the interminable silence from here. Not a lot going on; not a lot of inspiration to write about what does.
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