## Cherry POV November 3rd, 2000 Dear Mom, I saw you today. Well, not the “real” you–but the dreams have been getting too real for comfort. I was on stage again for Little Miss Marlowe, back to my 13-year-old self in that evening dress you painfully handstitched white strings through to my perfect fit . I used to think the bright stage lights were painful, but seeing a crowd full of nothing but you froze me in place. I think I’ve changed a bit though. Or time has passed enough for me to understand you’re not here. For that moment at least. Ookay, I'm lying a little when I’m saying I’m fine. Not long after, I had another dream about your funeral and your grave which I rushed to wake up from. Solomon tried comforting me after our dead mom dreams overlapped which was nice of him. Though I ended up finding more comfort in revisiting Marsha in the middle school cafeteria. (sorry Mom but it was a WAY less stressful time back then) We’re still figuring out this whole Pris/Sandra possession thing and I’m trying to stay safe and sane and fully human, but I’m unsure what options we have in compromising with Pris. The more I think about possession…having a body but not full control–piloting through life without agency… Nevermind. I’ll figure out a way out of this. I have to.