Somewhere between tea and existential dread, lies the thought unwilling to take form. Like mist in the morning, dispersing before the noon sun, or perhaps just before a copyright infringement lawsuit.
Welcome to dream archives, where dreams oddly resemble product warnings with disclaimers, and certainties dissolve like sugar in lukewarm ironies.
Perhaps the long-lost wish to own a llama in your studio flat was buried under the mundane tasks of tomorrow. Unravel it here.
Reflect, if you will, upon portals that lead not to Narnia but to contractual obligations. Obscured thoughts.