The moon! But of course! Suddenly he was overwhelmed with the return of his memory. Death Valley had never been like this. It could only be the Goddess of the Night where he lay wounded but alive. "And how could that be?", he queried to himself, for no-one else was near. Groaning, he turned his head just managing to stretch the black pupil of his reddened eyes thus enabling himself to make out the life support system that lay beside him. Too soon, consciousness escaped him and the misty mirages of senseless sleep overcame his tormented ego, giving rise to his true self. Through the fog etched the soul of his existence proclaiming its right to be heard. Clawing, clinging, and climbing one tiny string to awareness; it came. It came, relentlessly, beating the path - the royal road - to consciousness. There were countless images of synaptic statements vented from the vortex of our hero's fixations writhing ever forward. But then, just as they neared full throttle REM, deep sleep invaded forcing the Id-beasties to reconsider. Hours later, the dawn of Luna awoke simultaneously with the dawn of Harry's beingness. It cascaded the heavenly light across the worn features of his face and likewise the heavenly light of his soul across the worn features of his Dasein.
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