Last week, my sleep was unusually light; restless in a way I couldn’t quite explain. I’ve always believed I have a certain sensitivity to people, an almost instinctive awareness when someone is thinking about me or quietly calling me to mind. It’s the reason my messages or check-ins can seem random to others. But more often than not, when I reach out, it’s because something in me senses that someone, somewhere, might need it.

That week, though, the feeling was different. Persistent. Unsettling.

I couldn’t shake the sense that it was tied to someone from my past—a friend I no longer speak to because of unresolved issues. Night after night, they appeared in my dreams. Not once, not twice, but every single night. It wasn’t something I welcomed. Dreams, after all, don’t ask for permission. They arrive uninvited, stirring memories you thought had long settled.

Some might say it was simply my subconscious at work; that perhaps, deep down, I had been thinking about this person. But the truth is, I can’t even remember the last time they crossed my mind while I was awake.

So I’m left wondering.

Was it one-sided? Was it just me, caught in the quiet echoes of something unfinished? Or could it be that somewhere, in ways we can’t fully explain, they were thinking of me too?

Still, in a world where reaching out is as simple as making a call, silence feels like a choice. And perhaps that silence says more than any dream ever could.