It began with a slit in the subconscious mind.
A rip so thin, it could allow only the slightest of possibilities the dream of escape.
And so escape they must have, fleeing off into the dimmest regions of the surface.
Several severed bits of thought would make their way through this errant portal. These severely scattered yet vaguely connected pieces might form the preface of a misshapen circle. Wobbling, swirling across the dark edges of consciousness.
Or course, none of this makes sense.
How could it? We are all rational, logical adults here.
And we all know what is true and what is not.