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Lucid dream of spaghetti carbonara at low tide

The hypnosis was deep

Death, with yoga mat and wotsits

I listened to all you had to say, then flew directly into the sun

I didn’t want to have to spend another single night inside of your head

The garden of Elon

You are always somewhere else

The feelings always wash back up eventually

Looking back, I would have to say that was probably the nicest black hole I had ever fallen into