There was a brief moment of paranoia yesterday that Friday the 13th was going to prove terminally unlucky. That for whatever reason it was the day on which everything I see in my head would turn to reality. I don’t know why I felt that (or why I felt it with such certainty over the course of the day) as I’m not generally superstitious, but yesterday it did seem as if doom was in the air.
Maybe it was the dream I had the night before. This was a new dream. I was stood by myself, in a void seemingly, and in front of me was an atom. I know it’s completely impossible to see an atom with the naked eye, but there it was was – infinitesimally small, though magnificently visible. It seemed to happen slowly, yet also incredibly fast; but I watched the atom fall under pressure, the cracks showing ever more clearly on its side, then – spectacularly – it split open. The next moment I was gone, suffused by a wave of energy.
I woke up clutching my sheets in my fists, having almost torn them away from the mattress. My sweat stung against my skin.
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