The second dream was a man reading a blank verse poem (no idea who that might be) which was painfully pretentious. At the end, he tried to justify his use of the word “Beauteousulfully” despite its dreadful wrenching of the iambic pentameter (a pyrrhic substitution too far). I then realized that the entire poem had been full of such wrenching and faux multi-syllabic non-words.
I woke up laughing.
The day started again.
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