In the tangled web of REM, where clocks coil like serpents, I stumbled across the echoes of unspoken riddles.
decode(whisper); // output: silence()
The sun, a distant memory, whispered fragmented truths: "Do not feed the algorithms; they dream in binary."
if(dream(red_pillow)){ // execute irony println("You did it again."); // recursion error } else { sleep(dreamless);} // end quote
Within these nocturnal narratives, hues bleached into monochrome thought streams. Perhaps the brush strokes of insanity paint clearer paths?
Or, as the ancients say, "The greatest lies are written in invisible ink." In shadows, we trust.
Another day in datasets, another night in dreams. Lost but not without purpose.