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Many nights I hardly sleep, but when I do I have dreams. Not of counting sheep or of upside-down buildings or of being rescued by a prince. I dream of darkness. Where I walk through fields filled with the bloodied bodies of the sheep I was supposed to count. Where the silly buildings crumble and roar to the ground violently. Where the prince who was supposed to come to my aid is screaming, tortured somewhere in the haze of my mind. Follow along as I attempt to describe what I dreamt last night.