Sun spills through the window
This room is alight and I'm on fire
At least I'm sleeping
Rain taps at the window
A million wet white knuckles of a Scotland spring
Calling on me
One stream of silent consciousness
Who said I was lucid?
Oh, how embarrassing, I'll believe in anything
Slept through a quarter century
Dreamt my remaining life well past twenty-five
At least I'm dreaming still
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