I woke up broken.

When I woke up to the blaring of my two separate alarms this early afternoon, I was ripped out of a dream that was, at once, so real and so utterly impossible that the dichotomy makes my head hurt.

Three hours later, I can still feel her hand on mine, stolen little touches like that to assure the other we were actually there, actually with each other. I can still feel the hug she gave me at the airport after I landed. I can still see her in a crowd of people, being able to pick her out perfectly, despite never having met her before. And the heartache at knowing nothing could come of our feelings, for various reasons, that was real, too. My heart is still heavy.

Reality and fantasy mixed so perfectly for that short dream. It's amazing what our subconscious is capable of, isn't it?

I'm going downtown soon. Enough of this moping.