I struggled out of a nightmare this morning at 4:45 AM.
When I was little, this was a fairly regular occurrence. My nightmares were peopled with clowns and volcanos and monsters and murderers, and when I'd wake, it always took me a few moments to winnow what was real from the vast dark fields of what wasn't.
In my late thirties, my nightmares are apparently about being micromanaged by supervisors.
And it takes me even more time to thresh the true from the might-be.
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