It must have been a Sunday. The all-too-familiar pressure to get to work on time was notably absent. I hovered blissfully between sleep and wakefulness and there was no rush to change that anytime soon. From the deep crater in my pillow an unflattering outcropping of wild hair and assorted facial features jutted out. A sole squinting eye, nearly closed, gave silent protest to a rising sun. Did I mention it was Sunday? Good times.
My brain, still surfing those perfect alpha waves, told me I was sitting in a vast field of tall golden grass. Beware of your brain, my friends. Sometimes it lies. It was a pleasant lie so far so why not roll with it? The grasslands all around were bathed in a vibrant ocher light but there was a darker blue-gray color where earth met sky. In the distance a gathering of angry mountain peaks stood…
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