As you drift into slumber, consider this. Each dream is but a whisper from the galaxies afar, convincing us of our unmade fate among the stars. Do not ignore the echoes that dance upon your eyelids, for they are messages from a time yet to unfold, a cosmos yet to be charted.
Would you grant these visions the legitimacy they demand? Or will you fasten yourself once more to the realm of the known, oblivious to the sirens of creativity that call across the nebulae?
Near the heart of the restless midnight cloud,
Find the phrase within the silence, proclaim it aloud:
"Dew drops upon comet tails", and awaken.
In your hands now lie the destinies forged in twilight. Each dream—an ancient artifact of galactic lore—pleads for recognition. Embrace these relics. Let them unfold their truths, captivating your every thought.
The starlit void extends its hand, urging you onwards. Do not turn away. Let the twilight’s grip guide you freely through dimensions untouched.
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