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In another migraine dream, he realized that his arms and legs had lost all feeling.  Nonetheless he was propelled spasmodically forward, past dark grey landscapes inundated by tides of howling, dying apes.

The scenarios were presented to him as a series of images appearing at the top of a curved horizon and rolling slowly by his sides.  Some of the images tore at him with fists gripping migraine daggers; others, silent and incomprehensible, did not threaten him.  In all instances, the arms and legs functioned like the dead limbs of an automaton.


One of the migraine visions manifested itself as a slender icon growing out of the arc of a burning meadow.  As he approached, the icon was resolved into the familiar shape of an aircraft's tail section, surrounded by the flames and sour odors of a catastrophic crash.


In the center of this chaos, surrounded by mangled metal and corpses, an unharmed infant  was poised angrily on all fours, like the last, defiant lion in the ruined plains of Africa.


The hunchback shuddered with pain as the arms and legs carried him past this most recent blessing of the migraine.  The infant's eyes were wide and malevolent as it stomped around the flames and away from the carnage.

Hunchback and infant slowly receded to opposite horizons.