I had a nightmare last night. I’d actually consider it a bad dream more than a nightmare (when I think “nightmare” I think four-headed monsters eating your hands), but it was horrifying nonetheless. I was bawling in my sleep and woke up wet-faced and crying. It took me a few minutes to stop.
But this horrible dream I had does not hurt me nearly as much a good dream I had later does. A few hours after this bad dream, I had a spectacularly beautiful one. I couldn’t ask for it any better. It was everything I want. But when I woke up and realized it was only a dream, that it didn’t really happen, that it probably never will, it hurt. It hurt really bad.
We stood in a big stream and caught fish with our bare hands. Holding hands, we crossed to the other side and stood on a big rock.
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