I wake to a chill I did not face by day, a limb, a foot --
in this case -- exposed to the unheated room, stirring me up from a dream I can
barely recall, and can't get back to, vague images like shreds of clouds I lose when
I tried to grasp them, and when I sleep again it is to a new dream I know I
won't recall later either, just ether through which my mind passes on this trip
from waking to sleep to waking again, my fingers this time clawing my way out
of this cocoon, more lingering images, more shreds though through it all, one
persisting nagging thing a set of eyes, staring back out of the fog, one I know or knew and can never forget
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