If the world lives inside my mind, how can I walk through it every day?
I dreamt that all of my five senses deteriorated and died, and yet nothing changed. I could still see the grass without seeing the wind pushing it, so I thought that meant the physical universe was a hoax created by my disembodied mind.
But when I woke up I grew ill and I couldn’t think straight for head pains. Fits of coughing wracked me; with each painful burst my imagination floated further away. I tried to crawl after it, but my throat needed water first.
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