The smell of coffee and burning wood pulls me towards the surface of consciousness. I’m lost in a fog, reaching for something. I try to hang on, to commit it to memory, but it’s too late. I’m awake.

The dream slips through my fingers as I sit up. I’m in a soft, unfamiliar bed and palo santo smoke is wafting around me. I feel my face heating up as memories of last night come back to me. My chest flutters pleasantly. I’m alone in the room, and I take the opportunity to ...