Oceane: Dreams

The village of Oakhaven clung to the edge of the continent like a barnacle to a hull, permanently damp, perpetually grey. For Elara, sleep was not a respite; it was a commute.

That night, she didn’t fight the dream. She swam deeper. oceane dreams

“You’ve been dreaming of her again,” her grandmother said one breakfast, not looking up from her tea. The village of Oakhaven clung to the edge