The Distant Nightmare
The dream began, as it always did, with the sensation of the left lung failing to expand, a tight, rubbery constriction that made every breath a laborious negotiation with the architecture of his own ribcage. Elias Thorne woke not to the gray, pre-dawn light of his apartment but to the absolute, suffocating certainty that he was already dead, that his consciousness had merely drifted into the...
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