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I have tried returning to my dream from the second I awoke from it this morning. I actually contemplated calling in sick to stay in bed where at least if I couldn’t recapture it, I could remain beside it. It was delicious.

I hate my life. I really, really do.

Unsurprisingly, I spent my day chasing a feeling left over from a dream the night before. Why wouldn’t I? My dream life is so much better than my waking one.

At least I don’t seem to hate myself anymore. That’s something, I guess.