I. She awoke with a jolt, reaching for the red journal her therapist had encouraged her to keep. As she opened it, she reached for a pen, filling in the date and the context. The column of entries was growing longer every day—or, more specifically, each night at erratic hours. October 15, 2:14 a.m.—Same dream as last night. I can’t remember all the details, but it’s the same chair, same outcome. Very real. More so each time. It’s been coming […] Read More
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