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Dream Diary

I dreamed that I was in bed and woke up with a ghost kneeling on my chest, attempting to strangle me through a blue floral comforter. I didn’t try all that hard to fight it, as it wasn’t doing that great a job.

Since I only remember about one dream every ten years (previously, a white haired, traumatized and mute Arnold Schwarzenegger led me through an apocalyptic landscape; before that, a bunch of Eskimos fought with scythes on a moving roller coaster), you can see how this came as a somewhat of a disappointment.

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