The Uncanny Valley

As I walk outside, I notice.

Something isn’t right.

The sky is oddly yellow; the trees a shade or two off. A slight breeze bends the blades of grass, a little too much.

This must be a dream.

The birds aren’t chirping and the crickets’ song is a key too high. The world around me has an almost manufactured feel, as if created by an imperfect and fractured mind.

A mind like mine.

I look around me, taking in this uncanny valley of dream-reality, and begin to realize…

This isn’t a dream.

This is reality.

And a storm is brewing.

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