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“Shh, I’m here. I’ll always be here baby. Shh, it’s fine,” she says, only causing you to cry even more. You look up at her and then over at your father who seems genuinely confused.

“How?” you ask both of them, neither should be here. Somewhere deep inside, you know you shouldn’t be there.

“I’m worried. That fall ${he} took,” your father begins but you immediately stop him, shaking your head.

“It wasn’t the fall. This, all of this, it’s not real. I just saw you a few weeks ago. And you,” you look at your mother, your heart aching. You want her to truly be there, for all of this to truly be real.

“And why can’t it be?” your mother asks, cupping your cheek, “this can be real if you want it to be.”

“Why would I want this to be real? What does this world have that the other doesn’t?”

“For one, us,” your father chuckles, walking over to the fence and sitting on it, raising a brow at you.

“Indeed,” she agrees, “it also doesn’t involve any war, any pain. Look around my love, everything is as it should be. This is what you dream of, what both of you dream of.” The last part catches your attention and you turn to search for ${dname}, finding him nowhere. 

“Look there,” your mother point in the far distance where three figures are flying in the air. From your current distance you can tell that one of the figures are smaller than the other two. You can’t tell exactly what’s going on, but you can tell that they are playing, one of the big ones would fly pass the small one, and the small one would give chase.

“Something that both of you dream of, why give it up?” she asks, setting your attention back on her.

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