I don't know her, but I hold her.
She exists. She does not exist.
She tells me of her dream. Nightmare?

She tells me of a man restrained, and she cannot free him.
She tells me of dream fears, for he cannot consent.
And in her dream, she admits, she curled around him
Restrained as he was.

"I always tell him he is mine. But he never got to say yes."

This girl shivers, recounting dream fears.
He will be harmed. Or worse,
He will be freed
And with his freedom, renounce her.

I hold her. I soothe her.
He doesn't exist. He does exist.

I curl around her and tell her I love her, mother to child.

And then I wake up.

Penned by my hand on the 24th of Aeguary, in the year 946 AF.