i fancy several things, none of which are episclerital in nature. the eye is hardly bothered.
first and foremost, however, this business of dreams needs to come to an end. there becomes a lack of continuity when one has dissembled to the point of idolatry of one's own rather randomly firing synapses.
fifthly, not that one is counting, for one is well not, that is a sickly matter; and to say i am on tenterhooks waiting for resolution would be old hat indeed. when you have got a problem you do not immediately look to the answer, do you? nay, that sort of thing is saved for later. ergo, the proper response is attention to continued dilemma. foresight is a callous modification.
the basic fact of the matter is largely irrational. it may be undefinable, and indeed, is so; but that does not obstruct its existence. the sun is rather blocked out of view at the mo, and it may be greatly from mind's thought, but the presence remains. i ask therefore for patience, if not faith; and that failing, for empathy.
my commas are entirely out of whack. no holds barred; let the floodgates loose.