[ The dreams always start harmlessly enough. Mundane. Uneventful. Humdrum. And in all those ways both boring and ineffectual, indistinguishable from the fabric of everyday life. But somewhere buried between the warp and the weft there lies an insidiousness — a particularly dark-spun thread that, over time, begins to bleed through.
David is in his kitchen, going about putting the kettle on for tea, hoping to entertain Charlene's attention for the afternoon. She frowns faintly at the prospect and, as a result, the dream frowns with her. Around them the ambient temperature of the drops suddenly and sharply — so low, in fact, that when Charlene speaks, her words are accompanied by a plume of steamy breath. ] You always say that.
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David is in his kitchen, going about putting the kettle on for tea, hoping to entertain Charlene's attention for the afternoon. She frowns faintly at the prospect and, as a result, the dream frowns with her. Around them the ambient temperature of the drops suddenly and sharply — so low, in fact, that when Charlene speaks, her words are accompanied by a plume of steamy breath. ] You always say that.