I am dreaming of a girl named Adelaide.
In the light of the sun, her hair is the color of sunflowers, her eyes the deepest blue, her lips apple red, and her disposition equally bright and warm. By moonlight however, she becomes a seductress, hair and eyes black as onyx, lips cold and aching for a kiss, a kiss from anyone, anyone she can lure into her bed.
She lives in an abandoned house. It leans to one side, awaiting the final gust of wind which will topple it, and I have seen this house before, both in my dreams and in my writings. I know the things which go on within it, and they are frequently dark, removed from grace.
Why this dream tonight, I have no idea. It is rare that I dream of this girl, of this house.
She is me, of course.
The house is my house, the one I am in now.
What it means, I have no idea.
I hate having this dream.
I wish Bez were here.
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