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The dreams haunt me still to this day. From the emergence of self-awareness and control, to the mastery of my mind, to this very moment, the dreams remain the same, though in every way different.
It is always loss, or of the ideal. And it is always a sad dream.
I always lose the one I want, or the dream shows me what I cannot have.
It shows me that the ones I love, the ones I yearn for, are just beyond my grasp. The warm embrace and loving kiss of my ideal is always just beyond my strength, just out of reach.
It shows me what it would be like if I were stronger, wealthier, or smarter. What I could have, what I could feel.
And in the end, I awake with tears in my eyes.


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