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Dreams. Nightmares. For a long time that wasn't a difference.
The first week after Wolf Den, when it became clear how irrational people are, I dreamt of being trapped by glass walls, of becoming frozen.
Then... nothing for a long time.
Till the dreams changed, grew... expecting.
Unfortunately, there's always the wake-up with the realization that it's no fun to have a date and icecream and cinema when you have to beg from a senator first. Not that it's any likely to become granted.
But the dreams don't care about that.
She does neither.
And I won't ask for permission.