The Distant Machine
The dream is always the same. I am standing in a white room. It is not empty. It is filled with a low, humming vibration that I feel in my teeth. There is a machine in the center. It is large, black, and silent, though the air around it thrums. I reach for it. My hand passes through the metal. The machine dissolves into dust. I wake up sweating. The sheets are tangled. The clock on the...
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