The Writer's Café

My first lucid dream ended with me eating many cookies and puked cookie dough…
When I woke up I ate loads of cookies and felt sick :?.
I was 11 at that time.
 
In my mind it is there
The story I seek
The plot is laid out
All ready to tweak

It's all here you see
Inside of my head
Yet I can not write
My mind, it is dead

I have the whole journey
Stretched out in a line
I've nothing to do
All I have is time

But something is missing
That thing stories need
And so I do not write
With my mind I plead
 
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