There was some sort of rule with dreams; that anything you wished for could exist, but the second you looked at it, it disappeared. Rachel knew who was hugging her to him, she had no trouble imagining the face, the proper voice, and hundreds of other minute details. But she was so very afraid to say his name, to think the face clearly, because it might disappear the moment she did.
Was that insanity, then? To be unable to distinguish between a dream and reality, or being unwilling to do so? The pressing of lips to the back of her neck was like a small electric shock, a violent shiver cut down the length of her spine, arching and throwing her head back.
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