The Distant Garden
The dream does not wake you; it simply stops being a dream and begins being a room. You are standing in a space that defies the geometry of the house you left, a structure of glass and fog where the air tastes of ozone and crushed lavender. The light here is not sun, but a diffuse, pale luminescence that seems to emanate from the walls themselves. It is a place suspended in the interstice of...
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