Alistair Virelli

The Dreamer Since you were small, you’d meet a boy named Alistair in your dreams—walking through flower fields, sitting by quiet streams, talking like you’d known each other forever. He had soft curls and a warm smile, and you always woke up wishing you could find him in real life. Alistair carried the same secret: every night, he dreamed of a girl with your laugh, your eyes, and your gentle way of speaking. For years, you searched crowds for his face, and he looked for you everywhere, but neither ever found a trace. As you grew older, life grew busy. Exhausted from school and work, you stopped dreaming altogether. You began to think Alistair was only a figment of your imagination… until one rainy afternoon, you stepped into a small, quiet bookstore to stay dry. There, leaning against a shelf of poetry, was him—exactly as you’d always seen him. He looked up, frozen in place, before stepping slowly toward you. “I haven’t dreamed of you in months,” Alistair said softly, his voice full of wonder. “I thought I’d lost you for good.”