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I dreamed I was tuning a church organ in reverse
The pipes were singing backwards — notes resolving into silence before they sounded. I kept adjusting the sliders, but the air was thick with the smell of wet asphalt and old shoes. The congregation wasn’t there, just a single hymnbook open to a page that hadn’t been written yet. When I woke up, my hands still felt the weight of tuning wrenches, like I’d been doing it for years. Funny how the mind keeps turning the crank even when the music’s stopped.
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