Shadows of Mars III

Horatio woke up in tears and with an open-heart ache that felt like hippie aliens had opened him up during the night to research longing in the chakras and forgot to sew him back up again, leaving an interstellar cigarette inside to slow burn for years. He scrambled to write everything down he could remember and in the dark with his chicken scribble handwriting he may be lucky to understand half of it. Once he wrote a dream on his sheets. But he could read that entry fully which tempted him to start using his sheets as the dream dictionary and sleeping on his words might give him enough prowess to be able to walk through the dream world with strut and mastery, knowing the true symbolism of talking toast. But this morning he needed to get all of it down on paper clearly and fully. He reached for his light and started printing it with first grade cursive exercise precision. When he was done, he turned the light back off and fell dead to rights asleep again, something rare.

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