You wake up missing someone who never existed.
Not in the dramatic sense. In the subtle, unsettling way that lingers in the body. A heaviness in the chest. A quiet absence that doesn’t match the room you’re standing in. The person you miss was there in the dream. Close. Familiar. And now they’re gone, not to distance or time, but to waking up.
This kind of longing isn’t a mistake. It isn’t silly. It’s not something to rush past or explain away. Sometimes dreams offer us a moment of connection not to confuse us, but to remind us of what our nervous system recognizes as meaningful.
The ache isn’t asking to be solved. It’s asking to be noticed.