When she woke up with tears streaming down her cheeks uncontrollably, all that she could grasp were the touch of his hands and the promise they made.
She forgot about the dream for months thereafter, and lamented endlessly on the futility of love at this stage of her life. She was young, she could be happy remaining single for a long time. None are suitable at the moment, she would remind herself consistently. Once in a while, she would spot a bud blossoming but she would think too much and before it had a chance to flaunt its petals, she stretched out her hands and tore it apart. And the petals were left scattered and unborn.
In the solitude of the night, she would sit among piles of books, magazines and papers and occasionally tear up at a song, a memory or a related thought. There were also days where the word love didn't seem to exist, and she went about her daily routines and tasks. Sometimes, she was undecided about her choices, and other times she felt like no one would ever choose her. A dream would come on every now and then, of a phantom being holding her close. Every single time, she thought she had it all figured out, but realised that she had remembered everything except his face. It's just a dream, and dreams like these never come true, she would mutter to herself afterwards and hopped out of bed to begin the rest of her day wondering about everything.
That night when she spoke to the wind, she thought of how she could have seen the same moon lifetimes ago, and that past present or future, they have and will always be under the same sky. In the midst of sorting out her feelings, the moon was a shining silver coin that stood out against the darkness. A new sense of hope welled up within her, and the fog within her heart cleared for a moment. In that moment of clarity, she whispered: "I will find you no matter what."
But hours later and deeper into the night, she looked out of the window again and the moon was no longer there. Her search for light had only begun.
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