So, LAST night, I dreamed that I was reading "Little Dorrit" (a book which, to my shame, I've never actually read) and that I entered the story. The story, as my subconscious imagined it, is of a small orphan boy who lives in London. So far, so Dickensian. My small orphan boy befriended another small boy, who was the favorite of some pompous-
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But this one is definitely weird.
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