The Golden Mirror
I dreamed of sugar. It was white, granular, and endless. I was standing in a field of it, knee-deep, the grains sticking to my skin like frost. I tried to shake them off, but they clung. In the dream, I was holding a jar. It was heavy. Inside, instead of sugar, there was a mirror. The glass was cracked down the middle. I woke with the taste of chalk in my mouth and the phantom weight in my...
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