@silvrbullit.base.eth
A Short Story
He awoke to the clamor. As he slept he dreamt of a grand thing. He was walking through town, a town he well knew. As he approached the destination of where he would meet himself, he awoke. This place he was in, while he dreamt of it, was merely illusory in nature, and as reality approached disappeared altogether; that which was familiar in dream became distant and forgotten and when remembered, did so without the benefit of knowledge, which although present in both the fantasy's and reality's contemplation, lacks the precision of detail and intricate emotional connections as may the dreamstate: is as if that were I. Thus cunning is the craft of the dreamer, for he is indisposed at such atrocious demeanor without held pass to another, for pleasure doth gain at sight of the whole forensically reproduced to the nth degree through practical foresight mentioned above, yet lacking the full spectrum of details and analysis that I can bring with proper etiquette.
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction