Dear Wigleaf,

Lately, I've been dreaming of you.

In my dreams, we're riding a train and I fall asleep on your shoulder. In my dreams, you don't wake me, even though you might miss your stop. I can feel the rise and fall of your chest in my dreams; your breath in my hair is like coming home.

But listen — when I was young, I was in love with a boy who died. I remember there was one night he had me over to his place and I laid my head on his chest and listened to his heart beating. I remember that he was so warm, I remember that he said I had sad eyes.

You always look like you're about to cry, he said.

The last time I saw him was in a dream. He had been missing for weeks then. He told me not to worry. He told me he was doing fine. What he meant was: I'm dead. I died.

Lately, I've been dreaming of you. You're so kind in my dreams. So real.

Lately, I'm finding it harder and harder to stay awake.
 
See you in my dreams,
Cathy




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