THE LAST HOUR OF SEVEN BELLS

The Dream

Nora dreamed of Lena that night.

They were standing on the beach, the one from the photograph, the one where they had been laughing, young, happy. The sun was warm, the sand was soft, the water was blue. Lena was wearing a white dress, her hair blowing in the wind, her eyes bright.

“Hello, Nora,” she said.

“Lena.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

“Why haven’t you visited?”

“I didn’t know where to find you.”

“You knew. You just didn’t want to come.”

---

The words hung in the air.

Nora’s throat tightened.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“I should have answered the phone.”

“You should have.”

“I should have come when you called.”

“You should have.”

“I should have saved you.”

Lena shook her head.

“You couldn’t have saved me. I was already lost.”

“Then why did you call?”

“Because I wanted to hear your voice. Because I wanted to say goodbye. Because I wanted you to know I loved you.”

---

Nora’s eyes burned.

“I love you too.”

“I know.”

“Then why does it hurt so much?”

“Because love hurts. That’s what makes it real.”

---

The sun began to set.

The sky turned orange and pink and purple.

Lena smiled.

It was a real smile, warm and bright and full of love.

“I have to go now.”

“Where?”

“Back. To the place where I’ve been waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

“For you. To live. To love. To let go.”

---

Nora reached for her.

Her hand passed through.

Lena was gone.

The beach was empty.

The sun had set.

The world was dark.

---

She woke.

The room was dark.

The rain was falling.

The clock on the nightstand read 3:03 AM.

She sat up.

She looked at the window.

The glass was wet.

The world was blurred.

She did not cry.

She was done crying.

She was ready to live.

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