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At long last, I emerged from the woods.  My spirits lifted at the sight of a newly green meadow.  A half dozen small brown hares hopped quickly away, startled at my appearance.  Small red hearts (anatomical) fluttered by on delicate sparrow wings as I walked into the green field.


I walked further, following the fluttering hearts, into a beautiful display of blossoming red roses.  Too late I realized that the vines of the roses were entangling me, the thorns tearing at my gown and my flesh (I'm often clothed in formal Victorian garb in these dreams).


Fortunately, I suddenly possessed a scythe and was able to carve my way out of the roses and escape back to the safety of the field.  


Vengefully, I caught one of the hearts and sank my teeth into it, savoring the taste.

Dreams on the Night of the Blood Moon

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