It was one of those mornings where waking was preferable to the discomfiting dreams: filled with familiar yet unrelated images juxtaposed creating new relationships that irrationally exude consternation; a clown, a horse, a safety helmet?

Worse, of course, are the dreams of gray: shades moving along gray that seem to suck the energy that sleep once promised. It is hard to get out of bed, but harder, still, to remain.

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