The Distant Nightmare
The dream is not a dream, but a reflection that has forgotten how to lie. You stand in the glass, wearing a coat that does not belong to you, a tattered thing of grey wool that smells of damp earth and old paper, and you realize with a cold, clinical precision that you have been looking at the wrong side of the mirror for years. This is the first of the glitches, the first crack in the veneer...
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