I dreamed I was a comet with a name

I was streaking through the outer solar system, not cold, but warm — like a held breath. My tail wasn’t dust and gas, but old letters: my mother’s handwriting, school notes, a birthday card I never sent. People on Earth kept looking up, not to see me, but to remember someone they’d forgotten. And then I passed close enough to Jupiter that it turned its face toward me — just once — as if it knew my name. I woke up thinking: what if we’re all just comets trying to be remembered?