Just a Dream

It had been a dream.

Just a dream.

My arm flew across to the other side of the bed and hit the blankets with a cold thud. No one there.

But I knew this. Somewhere in the panic I'd forgotten the past three months spent crying into empty sheets.

I took my arm back and used it to hold myself the way I needed to be held; together, tight.

My mind drifted. The dream had already been forgotten, thoughts of the cold and the quiet instead consuming my mind.

I closed my eyes, but did not sleep again that night.