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Waking Dreams
In my dream
I am walking past rows
and rows and rows of stalls
broken, used, occupied
locked
the pressing need rises.
Nature is calling.
the urge becomes more
than a faint whisper
or reminder.
I am taunted
by a chorus of water filling pots like wedding bells as it hits the bleached white porcelain.
it wakes me.
I rush to my bathroom,
but the dream
still haunts me.