Kind of a blur

He knew he fell asleep quickly before had actually touched the pillow. The dream was kind of itchy and disturbing. Noises from the outer world were passing through the closed eyelids, bringing unnecessary pictures to his dreams. Which were already messy and not easy to follow:

Some old, wizened face woman with no mouth talked to him about the shoelace he was destined to untie. Huge shiny, glamorous insects were vomiting glitter. Someone or something clapped, disturbingly.

Finally, he was awake.

The air around was cold-moisture and heavy. Somehow, there was a bathroom floor beneath him and not the bed, where he clearly remembered he laid tomorrow night.

It was almost impossible to look around because of the steam.

He stood up on his feet, but before his glace reached the blurred mirror, he knew life will never be the same!

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