that dream

Just two nights ago, I had a dream, one of those dreams that feels so painfully real, so vivid that for a brief moment, I forgot the truth. I saw my mom. And I was happy. Truly happy. In my dream, I saw everyone, my dad, my siblings, but none of them mattered. They were calling me, reaching out, wanting me to spend time with them. But I didn't care. I only wanted to be with her. I ignored everyone just to stay by her side, to soak in every second with her, as if deep down, I knew it wouldn’t last.

When I woke up, reality came crashing down like a cruel joke. She wasn’t there. She never would be. The warmth, the comfort, the love I felt in that dream, it was gone in an instant, ripped away like it never existed. My pillow was wet with tears I hadn’t even realized I shed.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair how the world moves on like nothing happened, how everyone else gets to go home to their mothers, hear their voices, feel their embrace. I don’t get that. I don’t get to have her, to live with her, to share my life with her. And worst of all, I can feel her slipping away. Her voice, her scent, the little things I swore I would never forget, they are fading. And I don’t want them to.

I don’t want to live in a world where she’s just a memory. I don’t want to wake up from dreams where she’s alive, only to face the unbearable truth that she’s not. I don’t think I can do this without her.