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Emily Pedroza

Mary had another one of those dreams — the dreams where she was stuck with alarm bells vibrating the back of her skull. She used to shoot up into foggy air, dream matter, get ready for dream-school in dream-clothes that looked ready to disintegrate, but by 

now, she realized it was useless. By the time her body was charged enough to recognize the sun glaring from the windows, it was too late. This time, it wasn’t a dream.