For the first time since my marriage, the dragon visited my
dreams. As we stood facing
each other in the meadow I could never paint, I told him, “You were right. I don’t love them.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I hope you don’t feel responsible.”
“The worst lies are the ones we tell ourselves. But, please—do you know who he is?”
“Of course. So do
you.”
My shoulders slumped.
“I knew you wouldn’t tell me. I’m
just so tired.”
“Then wake up,” the dragon answered. “You’ve been asleep long enough.”
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