My second sleep-related self-diagnosis escalates matters, if not for the fact that I’m just dreaming them. After off-roading onto a river path in a rural area, I feared I was trapped behind inaccessibly larger rocks until I spotted a street sign. I settled in a cabin to rest, and would wake to news that I had been sleepwalking, and during the night did some ditch-digging in the rain. My flat-mates showed me a gray T-shirt which I wore while working and rendered worthless, tearing it at the collar. They also described how I chattered about not forgetting to register for Comic-Con.
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