I downloaded a dream. It was there on the cloud. Waiting for me. Uploaded by my conscience. I don't know how long the link will last. These days the neural networks are a bit erratic. The administrators are blaming it on the recent LSD attacks. Or was it the Dopamine virus? I have no clue. Let me enjoy my dream now. Damn my DreamPlayer seems to be outdated. It's been a long time since I have enjoyed a dream. Now where do I get the latest, DreamPlayer?
I have to write. Those were the words that escaped the dying man's lips. He was found lying unconscious near a mountain of blank paper. His autopsy revealed over exhaustion as the reason. But what did he want to write so badly that it killed him, no one knows. The task was designated to the junior cop who was part of the investigation team. Let's call him Namura. So here we are with Namura in a room with the mountain of blank paper. He is awed as to why should there be so many papers near a dying man. He picks a sheet on the top. He studies it. It's as blank as blank papers can be. No pencil or pen has violated its virgin whiteness. Namura thinks of the white bed sheets back home. He is tired. All he wants is to crash on his bed. He feels angry about the whole situation. Here I am, staring at a blank piece of paper, wondering why someone who wanted to write so badly didn't write a single word, while the whole world is sleeping on their comfy beds. He wanted to tear the ...
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