Blue Fire

The flame in the dream was blue—not the blue of gas or electricity, but the color of moonlight seen through deep water. It burned without consuming anything. It moved across the room as if it were searching for the one person who could see it.

I stood still while the light gathered around my hands. There was no heat, yet I felt something opening beneath my skin. Every thought I had tried to silence seemed to rise within it: old grief, unfinished love, memories I had renamed so I would not have to recognize them.

The fire did not destroy them. It revealed them.

When I woke, the room was dark, but the blue remained behind my eyes. All morning I carried the feeling that something had visited me—not to predict what would happen, but to show me what was already burning.

Some dreams disappear as soon as daylight touches them. Others follow us into the waking world and wait. They become questions, mirrors, or quiet instructions. Blue fire became all three.