You keep flitting in and out of my dream. It's frustrating. You, with your red robes and black linens. In my peripheral vision, it looks like you have no eyes--like there's nothing there but empty, black sockets peering at me from behind the wall of sleep. Then again, I haven't really been able to bring myself to look; to check for certain that your eyes are missing. I can't remember if it was in a dream or not, but I feel shame either way. . . or perhaps it is not shame I'm feeling--perhaps it is fear; fear that I will finish what I started, and take the rest of what you have to give.
Either way, you are gone from my dream again. Though I know you'll be back.
(the needles told me so)
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we hear you...