I awoke with a start, the troubadour’s haunting dirge
still caressing my ear. I inhaled through my nose to calm my racing heart and
found my nostrils filled with the stale stink of dirty bodies and work animals.
Rolling over, I retched over the side of my bed. Fortunately, the urge to vomit
was replaced by rough coughs before I ruined my carpet. After my coughs
subsided, I lay back in bed and wiped the sheen of sweat from my brow. The
dream came back to me; I was on the same pilgrimage as the grotesque figures in
the painting.
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