Sleep paralysis as usual. Visions when eyes closed.
Then I had a dream. About Jack - he had decided to come to England on a whim. He'd brought his simple black rectangular suitcase. Hadn't spoken a word of explanation to the people he'd left behind at home.
One moment, I couldn't find him inside the house. Looking outside, I saw the silhouette of his skinny figure standing in the rain, suitcase by his side. It was dark; the amber glow of a single streetlight illuminated his backdrop as rain fell unrelentlessly. His head was bowed; sadness emnating from every inch of his stance.
I stepped outside, bare foot, and walked towards him, stopping when we were face to face, in the middle of the road. He looked straight at me, his gaze never faltering. I looked down, and gently took his icy hand in both of mine, trying to warm it.
"It'll be okay."
His other hand clasped ontop of mine. My eyes darted up to gage his expression - his gaze had softened; his lips upturned slightly.
"Thank you."
My own lips echoed his movement.
Suddenly I blinked and remembered where we stood - in the middle of a road, late at night, in heavy rain.
"Let's get you inside Mr." I grinned and began to walk him backwards, only to be held by his continuing grip on my hands.
"Jack?" I asked cautiously, my eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"I really mean it - thank you. You never once questioned me when everything went pear shaped." He squeezed my hands. I simply smiled and stood on my tip toes; gently kissing his cold cheek.
During his visit he was quiet. I recall perceiving him as a child - even though in stature he stood taller than me. When we spoke he told me of how he was homesick, and of the cultural shock that he experienced. I understood more than he knew.
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