The Woman I Meet in My Dreams Chapter One 2:17 A.M. I never used to remember my dreams. People would talk about flying through cities or seeing dead relatives in grocery stores, and I’d nod along pretending I understood. Sleep had always been dark and empty for me — like my mind shut completely off just to survive another day. Until her. The first time I saw her, I woke up crying without knowing why. Not loud crying. Not panic. Just silent tears sliding into my hairline while the room stayed dark around me. She was standing in a kitchen with sunlight pouring through open windows. Barefoot. Hair messy. Humming softly while making coffee like nobody in the world had ever hurt her before. And the strange part wasn’t that she looked familiar. The strange part was that she was me.