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Sleep is overrated.
Dreaming is not. I saw a white cottage made of a deep freezer, many cartoon tyrannosaurus rexes gallivanting around amidst a forest of Hawaiian tshirt flowers. One dinosaur had a red yoyo. Another drove around in a pristine Edsel, honking at the squirrels blocking the road.
My eyes carve trenches of glowing blue light in my cheeks. I think it's an artefact of my ever-present megrims. Indeed, the light trench has been with me daily at work for the past few weeks. It's only distracting when I look straight down.
Dreaming is not. I saw a white cottage made of a deep freezer, many cartoon tyrannosaurus rexes gallivanting around amidst a forest of Hawaiian tshirt flowers. One dinosaur had a red yoyo. Another drove around in a pristine Edsel, honking at the squirrels blocking the road.
My eyes carve trenches of glowing blue light in my cheeks. I think it's an artefact of my ever-present megrims. Indeed, the light trench has been with me daily at work for the past few weeks. It's only distracting when I look straight down.
