It was a dream, one of the dreams she had almost every night. Dreams in which she saw his face so clearly that she touched it in her sleep, and next day her fingers still remembered his skin. Even when he put his arms around her, carefully, as if he wasn’t sure whether he had forgotten how to hold her, she didn’t move – because her hands did not believe they would really feel him, her arms did not believe they could hold him again. But her eyes could see him. Her ears heard him breathing. Her skin felt his, as warm as if the fire were inside him, after he had been so terribly cold.
– Cornelia Funke, Inspell

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About sethsownstar

Illustrator. Fabric Artist. Plushie Maker. Schwoopie Towne is my world and the Cuddle Buddies are my friends. I express myself through paper, digital paint and piles of fabric.

Posted on June 28, 2015, in death, dreams (sleep), love and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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