Dreams And Its Perception Of The Subconscious, The Clay

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Dreams, the plaything of the subconscious, the clay by which one 's thoughts, one 's fears, one 's dreams molds its perception of the world. Little is known to why they sleep, and as such I know little about why they dreams, but I do know the power of dreams. They are raw perception, reality cast aside to present the extreme emotional responses through symbolism both direct and indirect. Every worry, every faint fear pushed to the back of the head during the course of the day, each hope let lose as a pack of dogs to destroy and build in the safety of fantasy. *** After what seemed like the longest day of his life, Marco starts off up the stairs, shedding his apron as he walks. Star keeps close behind, having a much easier time than the bus boy. With a sigh Marco opens up the bedroom to inspect what was inside. Like much of the tavern, the room was in shoddy condition. Only a single bed was located next to an splintered nightstand. A small lamp sits on the stand, a flint and steel resting by it, barley visible in deepening summer twilight. A short rug rested at the foot of the bed, just large enough for someone to lay on. There was only one blanket and pillow resting on the hay mattress and the entire room smelled faintly of stale sex. "Of course there 's only one bed," Marco grunts, straightening out his back with a small crack. "So I suppose you should have it Star." She shakes her head, "no, my day was pretty easy, given I did it with magic. You should take it, you
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