Living with Boys

Lisa Braedon didn’t know why she kept having the dream. It seemed so random, even though it always had recurring elements. The most consistent part though, the feeling of lonesome longing she experienced every time she woke up, convinced that she had somehow found something lost; almost as if she were grasping at missing puzzle pieces of some past-life, though she didn’t put much stock in the idea. Still, every time she would have to convince herself that this dream wasn’t true, that it was just one of those symbolic psychological constructs, and would fade away into the ether as her day started.

After all, she wasn’t the kind of woman to pine after an imaginary man.