![]() Waking up should be the best moment of your day, your unconscious and conscious minds synchronized and harmonious. I mean, blankets are made from tufts of plant fiber spun into thread and occasionally stuffed with feathers. Targeted steam valves don’t clean your body in slumber. Mattresses don’t subtly vibrate to keep your muscles loose. Here, it’s like nobody has considered using even the most rudimentary technology to improve the process. ![]() It might be what I miss most about where I come from. And that’s when you realize you’re lying in bed, ready to start the day, with none of that sticky subconscious gristle caught in the cramped folds of your mind. The story wraps up the way it feels like it must, and no matter how unsettling the content, you wake with the rejuvenating solidity of order restored. When you wake up from a real dream into a virtual one, it’s like you’re on a raft darting this way and that according to the blurry, impenetrable currents of your unconscious, until you find yourself gliding onto a wide, calm, shallow lake, and the slippery, fraught weirdness dissolves into serene, reassuring clarity. But in everyday life, you hardly notice any of the little things. 'In fiction, you cohere all these evocative, telling details into a portrait of the world. ![]()
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