When I woke up with a start, the rotten smell of the graveyard was still stuck in my throat, and the burning sensation of scratching at the afterglow remained in my fingertips. In reality, the ancestor worship went smoothly, but in the nightmare, it was a dead end surrounded by ghosts and the temple collapsed. When I discovered that black lines appeared on the locust tree branches I clenched tightly in my dream, I was shocked to realize that the flight with the black shadow gnawing at my heels had already entangled the ankles of reality from my dream.
