As she dreamt she saw the huge sky, the water lingering underneath it, seemingly, and the stone; the stones on the beach. Here she stood under a chilly sky, watching him go, watching, watching; the little waves lapped and lapped, looping, replacing themselves, numbing her feet a little. Even after the ship was invisible she tried to imagine it beyond the horizon, the fear that it would simply fall off the edge nothing compared to the fear that he simply would not return. She could numb her whole body and not get rid of that fear. The sky swirled as the water once did, swimming away as the water grew colder. Let the land bunch up, accordion; let there be nothing but stones, sky and water. He gave her a smooth stone with his initial on it to remember him by, as if to say, if I don't come back, you can forget me. I am like the many pebbles and rocks on the beach, worn away and neither better nor worse for it.
The emptiness was huge; it was beyond imagining. Ordinary life was impossible, yet had to happen. He was not there; it was as if she had lost a limb, or maybe something even more vital than that. His absence followed her everywhere, not like a beloved pet, not like a demon, but vivid and moving and primary and unignorable. She could not see it, but just feel it; or rather if she could see it she was scared it would simply suck her in and she would not be able to escape. He was everywhere and nowhere; she smiled to herself that that is what he said when they met; that he saw her everywhere. It did not seem possible to her, she thought; how charmingly obsessive; she thought it was just a phrase.
He had somehow kept something burning within her; or she had done it herself. It was not given lightly. It was what compelled her to get into this state to begin with, and she trusted it would somehow lead her out, that she could somehow shine a light inside herself. Their hearts beat slowly together, both waited for something that would arrive, yes, it would, but there was no knowing when.
The sky looked blank; little dotted clouds soon appear, placidly sweeping her away, and she wakes up and remembers nothing, knows not where she is, even. "This room looks...small" she thinks aloud, before turning on her side slowly and holding on to the pillow to fight vertigo. She can't move, she's moving, she can't move; part of her is this way, part of her that way, she is floating above herself. She closes her eyes and drifts back into sleep.
