As dawn begins to erase the shadows, the essence of dreams lingers hesitantly. These moments, fragmented and ethereal, often telling truths glittering with fearful precision.
Typed on the keyboard of the mind are snippets of what could have been:
if (dream.type == "desire") return illusion.broken(); else tale.silence();
A whistle in the wind, the unseen yet felt, a calling louder than morning's first light. It speaks in a tongue as old as time, as simple as the breath of trees.
Navigate the maze of our night's stories: