My frustration grows when my ideas feel sticky and incomplete. Frustration turns to panic when my lungs fill with a viscous fluid mix of jagged grains of sand and warm creosote. No matter what I do in my attempt to recover from the sensation of drowning, the terror continues to expand exponentially. The expressions on the faces of people in my vicinity harden into stone as my breathing becomes severely labored. Wind whistles between towering skyscrapers and enormously tall redwood trees, struggling to keep the air moving. Desiccated corpses of vultures float by, atop the arid flood of bone-dry rivers kept moist by water volumes that never exceed a thimble per mule.
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We joined friends for dinner last night. As usual, my energy began to fade immediately after we ate and, as a consequence, we left rather early. Apparently, a few hours earlier, I got sidetracked while organizing my mass of medications, including pain meds. I opted to take a nap as soon as we returned home. And, as expected, my nap lasted through the night and until just before 4:00 a.m. The confusion with the medications caused no irreparable harm, but my body is still in the process of readjusting to the proper timing and dosages. I feel like sleeping again for a few more hours before going to get my scheduled massage, but the risk of missing my appointment would be too great. Bah.
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Silence echoes through empty corridors buried beneath thousands of feet of solid granite. Odors are so powerful they melt steel and boil diamonds. Ancient grandmothers, born ten generations in the past, teach their descendants to taste and identify hard-to-differentiate flavors of arcane colors.
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