-6th Rest-

I had…that dream again—about my meemaw. Everything unfolded exactly as it had before: the same familiar scene of her baking cookies, the same warm greeting, the same vividness, all experienced in monochrome.

But this time, the dream didn't end as it had previously. Just before I woke, my meemaw turned to me, her face with a warm smile, and asked, "Are you leaving so soon?" There was something off about her voice—something unsettling. I couldn’t respond. The words lodged in my throat as I struggled to answer, but before I could, the dream dissolved, and I awoke in my tent, disoriented and uneasy.

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That one question echoed in my mind long after I’d opened my eyes. It wasn’t just the eeriness of the question itself, but the timing. Why now? Why, when we’re about to leave the Graylands, would this dream take on such a strange twist? It’s probably just nerves, a manifestation of the unease I’ve been feeling since we crossed into this forsaken place. Yet, I can't shake the feeling that this dream—this monochrome memory of my meemaw—was a sign of something terrible.