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a brief period of wakefulness (kamil & herbs)
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Camillo takes a very, very long shower.

At first it's to get the shadows of dream-blood off his hands, and by the end it's to wash off the sweat of a stressful night before he goes to class, and maybe there's a little bit in the middle where he's crying about a boy who never existed and whom he wasn't actually dating even in the dream.

Aliens aren't real. Weird dream aliens with weird dream magic definitely aren't real. He's been having unusually long and vivid dreams with a surprising amount of continuity, fine. He already knew he had a sleep disorder. It's objectively not any weirder than the time he slept over at Z's house and both of them woke up in the middle of a blowjob neither of them remembered initiating.

Out of the shower, he scrubs his hair with a towel and pulls on clothes -- fresh underwear, yesterday's jeans, one of the nice shirts Valentine was convinced he needed for college. His books are already weighing down his backpack. The first class of the day isn't until eleven but the library is a better place to study than his dorm room.

 

It's a pleasant morning for biking. The sun is shining, the breeze is mild, a flock of pigeons are squabbling over half an abandoned burger. Students are rushing back and forth between classes en masse, on foot and bike and wheelchair and dorky little hoverboard. Someone is handing out flyers about free speech in the Middle East.

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Coincidentally, someone else is on her way out of a class.

She slows in her tracks and her head turns to follow him as he bikes past.

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It's Dorothy! She's totally unmurdered! He really doesn't know what he expected.

Camillo rings his bike bell in what he hopes is a respectful and collegial manner, regrets this choice immediately, and finds himself well past her before he has time to further screw up the situation.

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The library is ... normal. It's fine. No weird manuscripts or bloody conflicts or drugged alcohol. 

Classes are fine. Homework is fine. The peanut butter and jelly sandwich he packed himself for lunch because cafeteria food is not in the budget is, surprise, fine. The weather as he bikes between classes is infuriatingly fine.

His phone battery is holding its charge fine. This means he can text Z during the part of class when they're supposed to be writing reflections on the emotional impact of their research process or whatever.

miss you dude

i had the worst gayest dream last night. u were in it

 

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happy for you and/or sorry that happened

what was i doing

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viking

i love that viking is a verb

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how was i the one viking and not you

 context

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i was like a defrocked monk or something

also there was this really cute guy you were trying to get me not to date

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also seems backwards. thats your job

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true

dont date any hot blondes with horse-murdering tendencies

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yeah that checks out

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you promised sad and gay. don’t leave me hanging
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oh idk

you ever get those dreams where like

you're getting married or whatever but also you kind of know you're dreaming and going to evaporate in a puff of smoke when you wake up. so youre like clinging to your husband and he's going "promise me you'll never forget me" and you're like "baby we've been together for ten years i never will" and then you wake up and you're like. fuck

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no

holy fuck dude

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oh

cool

me either

that would be weird

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lmao

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anyway

oh also i murdered dorothy

IN THE DREAM, FBI

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yeah that’s pretty gay of you

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lads if a man murders a woman is that gay

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brb job

sorry about your dream husband

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oh my god you have to stop hiding behind the counter to text they're gonna fire you

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Camillo writes down I have never felt an emotion in my life on the reflection, which is graded for completion, and hands it in. In return, he receives back last week's, which says SEE ME in red letters on it. Whatever. It's an empty threat.

The bike ride home is fine. Beans and rice on the maybe-technically-forbidden hot plate in his dorm room are fine. His assigned chemistry reading for tomorrow is -- okay, kind of interesting, actually, but don't quote him on that.

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Bed is soft.

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