Nadia
I dreamed of her that night. And the next night, and the night after that. All week long, I was haunted by strange, wavering dreams of my mother. Of both my parents, actually, rare though that was for me.
I dreamed of my mother, her face hidden by long auburn hair, holding my close against her heartbeat. I dreamed of my father, nothing but a distant blur and a deep, familiar voice. They were both speaking to me in tense, urgent tones. They were trying to tell me something. Something I had to know.
But no matter how hard I tried, or how many times I dreamed of them, I couldn’t make out their words.
Between my dreams of ghosts and the ongoing roadblocks in my research, I spent the entire week exhausted, frustrated, and overworked. I threw myself into my class assignments, tryi
