
Through the mist that protects the ether we creep
Climbing stair after stair getting evermore steep
Ignoring the chill in the air that surrounds us
And the mad, diverse images that appear just
As we reach the top a tawny curtain hangs
Tied together by tassel and vine
We pull apart the curtains and enter a room
Walls white with cracked plaster, feeling impending doom
It feels like a trap, but that’s just how it seems
For this is the beginning of our Lucid Dream

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