There is a novel to articulate of nights spent exploring remote lands and eternal stories. An admix of lucid images, shining just as vividly in night as in day: scenes of stars arching over moonlit mountains, a seabed of soft spikes, ascents above crystalline snow, and some. Even more bewildering is that the phantasmagorias I travel to in my sleep, are illusions that I could never conjure in my consciousness.
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