Dandelions and Daydreams

At four in the morning, your eyes filled with sand, your back irreparable broken, and a small but ambitious gad of riveters busily at work inside your head, you set the last peice tremblingly in place, stare with heartfelt loating at the nondescript herd of brown and white cows meandering dully across 8 1/2 by 11 inches of monotone greenery, cures your madness and your fate, and stagger, unwashed and exhauseted, off to bed. What is even worse, you will doubtless repeat the entire procedure, illusion for illusion and disillusion for disillusion, when the next puzzle mania seizes you!
–Nancy E. Gross Living With Stress

The drawer creaked open as I gave it a vigorous tug. As I pulled the drawer out, my senses were flooded with the smell of aged paper. The cards had been sitting in that drawer since only God knows when and had begun to yellow. I flipped through the file looking for the book that I wanted. The light above was not very good. Everything around me stood still in silent revilry. I had a sense of hushed awe. I found the card I was looking for and I scribbled the reference number on a paper. I shut the drawer with a sigh and left all those books to be discovered some other day.