Page 202 of In Somnis

The moment her palms press against my cheeks, that familiar grounding sensation floods through me, and the pain that was screaming through my spine dulls almost to nothing.

My eyes flutter shut without permission, and I lean into the touch before I can stop myself. Her thumbs stroke along my cheekbones, and for one dangerous second, I let her.

“What kind of nightmare is this?” she whispers, her voice so soft with concern that it makes my brain catch up.

My eyes fly open, and I shove down whatever the hell that moment was.

“It’s called my life,” I mutter, pulling back from her hands even though every instinct is screaming at me not to.

I push myself up to sitting, forcing my brain to cooperate with the fact that this is a dream, and I can move however the fuck I want. But the relived trauma is still simmering under my skin like a low-grade fever I can’t shake.

And the fact that she just witnessed me at my lowest point is clawing at something vicious in my chest. Nobody sees me like that. Not anymore. Not since the hospital, and since I learned how to bury it deep enough that it only surfaces when I’m unconscious.

But she was here. She saw.

She’s still kneeling in the dirt beside me, watching me with an expression I’m deliberately not analyzing.

We haven’t talked about anything that happened the last few nights.

We’re apparently not talking about it now either.

“You’re in my dreamscape,” I say instead.

“I am?” Her eyes go wide. “Shit. I am.” She sits back on her heels. “I went to bed after the tea and tried to do what Tessa said. I was thinking very hard about being lucid, intention, and…” She stops. “I wanted to see you. So we could talk. Figure our shit out.”

The thought of her falling asleep thinking about me sends warmth spiraling through my ribs that I’m absolutely not unpacking right now.

“I’m rambling,” she finishes, her cheeks flushing pink.

It’s almost cute.

“Little bit,” I say, but there’s no bite to it.

Christ, what is wrong with me?

“Are you mad at me?” she asks. “Because of last night. The pedestrians.”

“The pedestrians were your fault,” I agree. “But no.”

She exhales, and her shoulders drop. “I was going to apologize. For that. And for…” She stops again, glancing down at the dirt. “Other things.”

I look at her. “Other things?”

“You know what other things.”

I absolutely do not know what other things.

If someone should apologize to someone here, it would be me.

“I’d like to hear you say it.”

Her head comes up. “Is this you being annoying on purpose?”

“This is me being precise. There are several possible things you could be apologizing for. I want to make sure we’re addressing the same one.”

“Anyway.” She takes a breath. “I went to sleep with the intention of seeing you while being lucid. And here I am.”

“Here you are,” I echo, but my thoughts are already running ahead. Nobody has ever dream shared into my space before. I was always the one stepping into Paul’s dreams. He could never do the reverse. I thought it was just me being able to do something special, but Tessa did it, too, didn’t she? Stepped into Lennon’s dreams. And Lennon stepped into hers. So maybe it’s a skill after all, a learnable thing.