[The dream was lonely, a dreadful white that stretched on forever. He couldn’t tell if time had changed but it felt like he had been by himself for ages. A shadowy body walked the endless plain, exploring a place it knew all too well. ]
[It was home. But why did he always feel strange? Maybe he was born this way. The memories of before the dream came to consume his life was limited, fractured scenes. Like still images of a movie. He was left only to imply what meaning could have been in the moment]
“at least there isn’t clowns this time…” [his voice was hollow and cold, echoing off of walls with no end.]
