Was it all just a dream?

Journal Entry June 9, 2021 - I'm 8 days in and can hardly take it any longer. I imagine this is what it must feel like for tenacious prisoners whom are slowly tunneling out of captivity just under the noses of their vicious captors. Filled with anxious energy, but cursed to retain a nonchalant facade. I ponder though the ages of great historical mustaches… Salvador Dali, Wilford Brimley, Tom Selleck, John Waters, Kyle of Bradonbruy, Bruce Khan (Genghis's cousin), and I just don't think I could live up to those philtrumoliths. I fever-dreamt last night, riding a top a terrible lizard deep into the Late Cretaceous. We strode endless jungles of cycads, horsetails, and conifers. But a darkness loomed, a cold and portentous wind descended upon Gondwana like a bone-crushing vice and the mustache was his mark. There was nothing I could do…

I fear our time together is waning…