In this dream, like every dream he could remember, he flew alone through blue, cloudless skies. Skin bared to the comforting warmth of the mid-day sun, he wheeled low over lush tree tops. Their leaves, reaching hungrily for the sun, tickled his bare stoma…

You wake to the shivers of dreaming, cold sweats and stifling, suffocating, scratching sheets.

Torn into reality like paper.

It leaks through the holes like static, influences and misdirects, reality as uncomfortable as the humidity soaking through st…