It's been two months since my last dream, two months since the man and the dragon appeared in my mind. The strange visions had faded away, leaving me to wonder if I'd imagined it all. Dragons aren't real. I had to keep reminding myself of that. I'd been overthinking everything, trying to find logic in something that was nothing more than a bizarre daydream.
This weekend, Heather and I had the rare chance to relax. We both worked non-stop, and when we managed to get a break, it was always good to have some downtime together. We'd grown up side by side, both joining the search-and-rescue team at the same time. Over the years, Heather had become my best friend.
"So, what movie do you want to watch?" Heather's voice broke through my thoughts as she emerged from the kitchen, a huge bowl of buttery popcorn in her hands. I smiled and shrugged, not really in the mood for anything in particular. "How about Avatar?"
"Sounds good to me," she said with a grin, settling beside me on the couch and immediately reaching for the remote. She flicked through the channels for a while before the opening credits started. I tried to focus on the movie, but of course, Heather had other things on her mind. "Have you been seeing anyone lately?" Her question caught me off guard, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. "No, work's been busy, you know that," I responded quickly, trying to keep my voice steady. "We've got the same job, after all."
She gave me an incredulous look, a little smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "We both know that's not true."
I raised an eyebrow at her. "What do you mean?"
Heather rolled her eyes. "Come on, Astrid. You're 20 years old and haven't had a serious relationship. You're not fooling anyone."
I shifted uncomfortably. This conversation always felt like a strange interrogation. "I don't need a boyfriend. I've got enough on my plate as it is," I said, forcing a smile. She didn't buy it. "You're 20 and you've only had one boyfriend."
"I don't need one yet. Or ever," I shot back, my tone a little sharper than I intended. Heather just shrugged and returned her focus to the movie. "Okay, whatever. You're 20, I'm just saying, don't wait too long."
We fell into silence as the movie played, the hum of the TV filling the space between us. The soft sound of the popcorn crunching in my mouth was the only other noise until the credits rolled.
"You know," Heather said casually as she clicked off the TV, "if you ever want to go on a date, I could hook you up with one of my boyfriends."
I froze for a second, surprised by her offer. "No thanks," I replied, trying to keep my voice light and playful. "I'm good, really."
She just grinned, nudging me again. "Okay, but if you ever change your mind, I'm here to help."
I sighed, feeling a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Thanks, I guess."
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and drinking as we talked about everything. Except my love life, of course. I didn't need to talk about it. I didn't need a boyfriend.
I spent the night at Heather's place. It was already 10:00 AM by the time I woke up, sunlight spilling in through the curtains and warming my face. I blinked against the brightness. I must've passed out sometime after the movie ended. I hadn't gotten drunk. Hadn't drunk enough for that. Just a few sips, really.
"You slept in," Heather's voice rang from across the room. She was curled up on the other end of the couch, phone in hand, lazily scrolling. I stretched and yawned. "We went to bed at four. I was exhausted."
"I've been up for a while," she said with a smirk. "So you slept in."
I rolled my eyes and reached for one of the couch pillows. With a grin, I hurled it straight at her. The pillow hit her squarely in the head, and the surprised look on her face sent me into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. "I'm going to get you back for that!" she shouted, tossing the pillow back in my direction. Between gasps of laughter, I managed to say, "You should've seen your face!"
Eventually, the chaos died down and we both sat catching our breath. Heather stood and grabbed her jacket. "Let's go get coffee."
I blinked at her. "Can't we just make some here?"
"We could," she replied, already heading toward the door, "but let's go to On The Mountainside instead. It's only five minutes away."
I sighed, pushing myself off the couch. "Fine, fine. Let me get ready." I ran a brush through my hair, changed into something decent, and threw on a light jacket before we stepped outside. But the second we were in the sun, I regretted it. The heat was already unbearable, and I ended up taking the jacket off and tying it around my waist.
The café was quaint and quiet, tucked into the edge of a slope overlooking the valley below. It had a rustic wooden charm, like something from a postcard. We each ordered our coffee and found a table by the window.
"See? This is nice," Heather said, sipping her drink with a contented smile. I nodded, taking in the peaceful atmosphere, the soft hum of quiet conversation, and the gentle whir of the ceiling fans. "Yeah, it is. I really need to get out more." It was the truth. Aside from work and the occasional night at Heather's, I hardly left the house anymore.
The evening after spending time with Heather, I laced up my running shoes, slipped on my headphones, and headed out for a jog along the closed trails near my place. The air was cool and quiet, the kind of quiet only the mountains could offer. These trails were beautiful, lined with towering pines, the scent of moss and earth thick in the air. I've always been surrounded by nature. Growing up here in British Columbia, Canada, nestled in the heart of the mountains, the wilderness became part of who I am. My parents were both outdoorsy. Some of my earliest memories are of sleeping under the stars or cooking over a fire. I think that's where I inherited my love for the mountains.
When I was younger, I wanted to be a pilot. The idea of flying, soaring above the peaks I grew up beneath, sounded like the ultimate freedom. And while I could still be, I like what I do now. Search and rescue may not get me into the sky, but it gives me a purpose. It feels right.
Still, I miss my dad. He passed away when I was fifteen, taken by cancer far too soon. I miss his stories, the way he always made sense of the world, or just having someone to talk to. My mom is still around, but things haven't been the same between us since he died. We barely talk anymore. I check in on her every couple of months, but it always feels… strained. Like we're both ghosts to each other now, wandering through the same grief from opposite directions. I know I should try harder, reach out more, but I've never been great with people. I've always been the kind of person who would rather punch someone than talk to them. I have friends, sure, but most of them are from work. We hang out after shifts sometimes, but it's not deep.
As for relationships… I've stopped expecting much. I've been on dates, more than a few, but none of them have ever felt right. The connections were shallow, like trying to force two puzzle pieces that just weren't meant to fit. Half the time, it felt more like a chore than something to enjoy. I don't want to date someone just to have someone. I want to like them. Truly. And not just in the way that comes with chemistry or convenience. I've only had one real boyfriend. I liked him at first, but over time, it stopped feeling right. Something was missing. Something real. And I'd rather be alone than settle for something that feels empty.
The wind rustled gently through the trees lining the trail, their fresh spring leaves fluttering like tiny green flags. Everything around me felt alive. The forest was humming with quiet energy, the mountains in the distance standing tall with their snow-capped peaks glowing softly under the fading evening light. It was a reminder of how beautiful this world is, how often we take it for granted. Clean air, quiet trails, the stillness of untouched nature. This place deserves better than litter and neglect. It deserves care. Reverence.
The trail I ran followed a loop, one I knew well. It usually took me about an hour to finish, enough to clear my head and stretch my legs. By the time I reached the end and started jogging back home, the sky had darkened, and the stars were beginning to peek through the deep blue.
Back at home, I headed straight for the shower, washing off the sweat and dirt, the peacefulness of the run still lingering in my chest. There was something satisfying about tiring yourself out in nature. It made sleep come easier. I turned in early. Work started again in the morning