I ‘m dreaming when he wakes me up.
The touch of his fingers against my cheek pulls me straight out of a deep, vision-filled sleep and back into reality. The image had just been there, whatever scene in my imagination just having been playing fresh in my mind moments before, like a TV that had just been shut off. Except I can't remember exactly what I saw.
I know Harlan is there. He always is. And I remember happiness. Warmth. I remember speaking with him, but whatever words were shared are long gone, floating further and further away as I try to grasp my memory with invisible fingers, watching it slip through until it is gone.
My eyes open into thin slits, squinting as I try to adjust them to the low light. A hand presses to my cheek.
It is Harlan. He is everywhere: there in my dreams,
