I wrote about an old dream that I had. Check it out!

The girl from my dream.
I met someone in a dream once. Her hair was black, long, curly, and I swear I saw distant stars looking into it. She wore a black tee over a white and red striped shirt, and a knee-length, black skirt. Her pink socks had white stripes and found their home inside a pair of black Converse sneakers. Her sickly pale hands each held 5 nails painted in assorted pastels. I never saw her face, it was obfuscated by a large glass bowl, shade was trapped inside, light seeming only to reach her soft gray, or possibly blue, green, or brown eyes, which appeared to glow in contrast. Atop the bowl was one of those headbands, like the ones with the little cat ears on them, and she wore a matching tail clipped to her skirt. We met at an arcade that didn’t exist, inside of the only restroom. We played games that might’ve existed on cabinets definitely didn’t. We laughed and smiled. We swam through the air together. It feels as real as any other memory. Sometimes I wonder if it was some kind of cosmic or divine intervention. If the girl who wore a bowl is really out there somewhere, in some far off place where the rules of reality aren’t as set-in-stone. I wonder if she thinks about me sometimes in the same way I think about her. I’d really like to meet her again. I miss her, I don’t even know if she exists, and I miss her. I really miss her. We only spent a couple of hours together, and most of it is blurry, but those couple of hours were wonderful. I think about that arcade. I think about her clothes. I think about her clearly practiced voice, about how she probably shared a similar journey to me. I looked up to her. She visited me that night, and she made me comfortable, happy. She was a reprieve from the people around me, they sucked. She was wonderful. I miss the girl from my dream. I want to see her again. Maybe one day I’ll be like her, she seemed happy. I hope one day I can meet her in the mirror at some point, instead of some far off arcade in space over the course of a dream. If you’re out there somewhere, and can read this, or if you’re buried somewhere deep in my subconscious, I miss you, and I hope you’re doing well.