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Not all nightmares vanish with the dawn.

Over the transcripts I downloaded later, I heard Clair dreaming again. The voice she used in her sleep had returned.

"You're special. You're unique. You're beautiful . . . ."

I could only imagine what was going through her mind. I never dream, but perhaps I did once, I thought, and that made it all the more fascinating to speculate. Humanity's literature is full of dreams of other places, other people, other versions of themselves. When Clair dreamed, I supposed, she was imagining the better version of herself that she was becoming.

You've changed, Gemma had told her. Clair is Improving, I told myself.

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