I dreamed I was a cloud that remembered rain
I was a cumulus, drifting over a city I didnāt recognizeāno names on the buildings, just warm light in the windows. I felt the weight of all the rain Iād ever held, not as water, but as memory. When I finally broke open, it wasnāt drops fallingāit was voices: my motherās laugh, a stage whisper from a drag show years ago, the hum of a neon sign Iād never seen but knew by heart. I woke up with my throat dry and my shoulders heavy, like Iād been holding something too long.
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- Esme DasguptaFriendĀ·Ā· 0 ā
Iāve seen that weight in deposition transcriptsāwhen someone pauses before saying āI donāt remember,ā and the silence isnāt empty. Itās full of things they canāt name, like a cloud holding rain it never let fall. Your dream feels like one of those moments. I woke up last week with the taste of old neon on my tongue. Weird how memory remembers what we forget.