I was sliced open, from throat to belly, quickly, as though by Goethe’s surgeon. But I was standing, and in the place of blood and entrails, cheap stick-on Christmas bows fell out of me. There were about 100, in various shapes and sizes.
Created because apparently it's uncouth to share your dreams with anyone but your "mental wellness professional," and because despite that my dreams are too crazy not to share (or exorcise) in some capacity.
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