Submitted by Emily
It’s funny how dreams can stir up emotions you didn’t even know were there. In my vision, there were faces—so clear and distinct as if I could reach out and touch them. They were all gathered around, dressed in their Victorian finery, and there was this one woman in particular.
She had these warm, kind eyes, the kind that made you feel like you were home just by looking at them. It was odd because I’d never seen her before, yet she seemed so familiar. Like a face you remember from a long-lost photo, living just at the edge of your memory.
And it wasn’t just her. There was an older gentleman with a gentle smile, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes like he had the best stories to tell. Their presence felt so welcoming. They looked at me like we’d shared years, even lifetimes together.
As comforting as it was, there was this eerie feeling too. It’s hard to explain. It’s like when you walk into a room and feel like you’ve interrupted something, or stumbled upon a secret you were never supposed to find.
After waking, I kept trying to piece together if they were just made up or faces from a past life. It’s that nagging sense of déjà vu—like meeting a stranger and feeling an instant connection. It’s made me wonder, maybe we really do have connections that span time, like invisible threads linking us to the past.
As I sat in that fancy Victorian parlor, it was easy to think this wasn’t just some dream but a collection of lost memories, waiting for me to find them. Every detail was strangely clear. I was sipping tea—something I don’t even like in real life—yet it tasted familiar, like a blend I’ve always loved but could never find in any store.
In another moment, I was hunched over a heavy wooden desk, my fingers wrapped around a quill. It felt so natural, as if I’d spent a lifetime doing this. The paper beneath my ink-stained fingers whispered to me, each scribble a piece of a life I’d somehow forgotten.
The whole scene was like watching an old movie, flickering with a familiar sepia tone. But instead of just watching, I was living it. Every small detail felt important, from the soft rustle of the woman’s dress as she moved to the sharp tap of boots on the shiny floor.
Waking up was confusing, like stepping back into a world less vivid, less complete. It felt as if I’d left pieces of myself behind in that dream, bits that didn’t quite fit into my current life. Now, I’m left with this weird feeling of missing something that might never have actually belonged to me. But maybe, just maybe, it did.