Two nights ago I dreamed I fell from the sky. Crashing down, knocking the breathwindlife out of me.
Last night I dreamed there were shooting stars falling from my bedroom ceiling.
And over the past week during my waking life, a Charlie McCarthy doll keeps popping up in my peripheral vision. A mocking smile plastered to his face. A few times a day. He's not really there. I haven't seen this doll since I was a child.
I don't know what, if anything, this all means.
But I do know these dummy visions need to go.
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