Kathryn
16
Waves crash into the surf, salty to the lips, sun silver in the dawn. The air is tepid and the roar of water dizzying.
There is a pause in the universe.
Then, blackness tunnels until the ocean is only a pinprick.
A room appears, rising out of shadows. An ordinary room, with a desk and a sofa, and a potted plant. It stays in perpetual twilight. Dim. It has a feeling of dreariness.
And then the ocean, raw, crashes through the bleak room with disturbing waves.
The waves and the darkness competed, back and forth, until Kathryn woke up, on edge but wiser.
Heather’s waves of fatigue and her dark depression were separate issues.
The dream had felt sticky. It left a residue under her skin that couldn’t wash off. Flora wasn’t in this dream, but it was from her just the same.
He
