I woke this morning from a vivid dream.
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I thought at first I was getting fewer submissions this time round. I was managing to open the envelopes, read and write back. I was managing quite well.
There is a pile of envelopes on the stairs, ready to post back to their owners, and another pile on the sofa unread.
So I’m dreaming and in the dream, I’m thinking, this dream wouldn’t make a good poem because it’s stuck.