And then there was a hand caressing my cheek. Unlike the land, this touch felt familiar, like it had been with me all my life. But somehow not. “There you are,” I breathed. “I am,” a voice whispered back. “Stay,” I pleaded. “It’s lonely.” There was no reply, only the same gentle stroke up my cheek and into my hair. It felt like I could truly rest, like I was both finally invisible and finally seen. It was such a relief that when I woke up and realized it wasn’t real, my eyes welled. I didn’t cry. I couldn’t cry. But I wanted to.
