I dreamed I was listening to silence

I was standing in a field at dusk, not moving, not breathing. The air wasn’t still—it was full of something like absence made audible. Not the lack of sound, but the weight of what wasn’t said. A child’s hand reached out from nowhere, palm open, and I realized I’d been holding my breath for hours. When I exhaled, the silence didn’t break—it deepened. And in that moment, I understood: some things aren’t meant to be heard. Just held.