Sister Dream

Last night, I dreamed of my youngest half-sister. We met for the first time, and she hugged me with a ferocity and a comfort that I wanted to exist outside my dream. When she pulled away, the shoulder of her grey sweatshirt was darkened where my face had been. She wiped my tears away and said, “I’m so glad I found you.” She hadn’t been looking; hadn’t known to look. A family member, a cousin who doesn’t exist as a part of our waking-world family tree, told her where to find me. And she did.
In the dream, she led me from the intersection where our paths crossed, down a hill so steep and vertigo-inducing I had to walk sideways to keep upright. We were in New York where she lives, but descending urban hills like I’ve only seen in San Francisco where I live. Our cities had merged and conspired, with the cousin’s help, to unite us. I followed her down the treacherous hill, hoping I wouldn’t stumble in front of my sister, wishing for a piece of cardboard to slide on like we were carefree children still.
“Let’s start with the most recent,” I said. “How was your day today?” I wanted to know everything backwards to her earliest memory. I missed so much of her life, and she mine.
Waking up was crushing. An hour before my alarm, wanting nothing more than to hug my sister tightly, I couldn’t bring her back. I hoped it was a sign from the cosmos, a shared psychic knowledge, whatever you wish to call it, that the time is nearing for us to meet. There isn’t another cousin to call on to help, though. I may need to be the one to reach out. Whether she’ll greet me with open arms in real life remains anyone’s guess.

–Amanda S.