As a child, I loved bedtime because I dreamt in color and the epic adventures my subconscious invented could be revisited and continued from one night to the next. I was able to recall the story and pick up right where it left off the night before, like an excellent illustrated chapter book. In my tweens, a new phenomenon developed. I began to have a recurrent nightmare, in which I was chased by a cloaked, faceless man. There was a dark tower ahead in the fog which I knew offered safety if I could just outrun him, but my vision would fog and I would begin to stumble and falter. My fall would be broken by hundreds of mewing black cats and the tall mysterious tower, looming several meters away, remained out of my reach. Cats and blurred vision are my avowed enemies to this very day.
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