I landed, hard, back in the cornfield. At least this time it was just a cornfield.

A blur ran past me, rustling the stalks.

“Damien?” I tried again. He didn’t respond, but I saw his back disappear farther into the field and I chased him, my feet tramping down the cornstalks, following the path he had been carving out. That meant the tall stalks could be destroyed, pushed down by both of us. I focused on that reality of this dreamworld and soon the field was flattened, the cornstalks splayed like a meteor had hit them.

Damien reached his destination, a slim figure curled up in the fetal position on the ground. In a flash, I was next to him, watching him kneel down to look at the person—an Asian man, Damien’s age I’d guess, sunken face and long hair. The man looked familiar, so it must have been the person he rescued from the AM last summer, the person he was trying to rescue in that dream. But he said that person was safe, so why still have nightmares about him?

And this was a nightmare. Damien was shaking the man by the shoulders, shouting at him to wake up.

He was dead.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Damien was crying into the man’s hair, whispering into his ear as he pulled him close. The body was limp, looking small and broken in Damien’s arms, but still somehow beautiful. Like a handsome prince who had been cursed, Damien the knight who was too late. The two of them shook with Damien’s sobs, the pain of loss cutting through the air like a wind sharp enough to make you bleed.

It was truly awful. And I felt completely unequipped to fix it. Nothing about any part of the dream had given me any indication of what would comfort Damien and I had no idea how to bring this guy back to life. I didn’t ever create people in dreams. Wild animals, magical creatures, sure. The closest I’ve come is manifesting my family in a dream, but they’re my family. I know them well enough to build a dream construct of them. I didn’t even know this guy’s name.

Two shadowy figures appeared then—two women, both incandescently beautiful. One tall and tan, one short and dark skinned, both like projections of people. See-through and wavy, not really there.

“Do you forgive yourself?” they asked in a ghostly chorus. Damien shuddered, pulling the man closer.

Suddenly, I knew what to do.

The man in Damien’s arms opened his eyes, shocking Damien into still silence.

“I forgive you,” he whispered.

Damien and I both gasped awake at the same moment.