Density

She dreams, and when she dreams she is alive. She flies amongst galaxies, breathing glowing clusters of stars into the dark of never ending night.

She floats on a sea of clouds, below a sky so blue it hurts.

When she awakens, her dreams are gone, and with them the memory of all the lives she’s lived in them. Her dreams are gone and there is nothing left, no memory and no life and nothing at all.

Fear clutches at her, digging adamantium claws into her spine. It washes over her, drawing her into herself.

She doesn’t remember being afraid before, but the fear is familiar to her and so she draws it closer. It coils into her, and she absorbs it. No heavenly realm to explore, no depth of the universe is hers.

Breathless, in shadows. Night time is the right time… but not for anyone real. Have I ever truly lived? I can’t think… (therefore, I am not.)

I am indefinite and undefined.

Author's Note: I wanted to write prose that was almost-poetry. Inspired by a line I wrote in physics class during a lecture that had something to do with thermal expansion and density. “You are surreal. A figment of my imagination, holding my hand as I dream.”

PS: Shoutout to Nietzche or Descartes, whoever came up with "Cogito, ergo sum." in the first place. I suppose I could also say that "adamantium claws" is a subconscious reference to X-Men. But really, that's besides the point.