I must have drifted off sometime after June went quiet on her side of the room and had gone to sleep. It was very late in the evening and the room was dark, except for the thin slice of hallway light slipping through the blinds, and I remembered watching that silver light crawl across the floor until my eyes closed on their own.
Then the dream started.
It was like someone had dropped me into a painting—colors too bright, edges too sharp, every detail so vivid it almost hurt to look at. I was standing in a garden I didn’t recognize, surrounded by flowers that looked like they’d been stolen out of a fantasy novel. Roses the size of my head, lilies glowing faintly like lanterns, vines twisting themselves into heart-shaped arches.
Someone was brushing my hair. I looked down and realized I w
