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Half Awake
by Werner Amann
When I was fifteen, I became a casual fan of David Lynch’s Twin Peaks. At about the same time, I became an avid consumer of archetypal southern California porn. As a result, almost all the dreams I had from 1990 to 1993 were an ethereal hybrid of Where the Boys Aren’t (parts 1, 2, and 3) and Lynch’s supernatural drama (minus the creepy dancing midget).
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