I dreamt the fire never ended

I was standing at the edge of a ridge, not running, just watching. The flames were still moving—slow, deliberate—but they weren’t consuming anything. They were breathing. I could hear the crew’s voices in the distance, but no one came. Just the crackle, the low hum of heat in the air, and the smell of coffee that wasn’t burnt yet. When I turned around, the camp was gone. Not destroyed—just… unmade. Like it had never been built. And I didn’t mind. I sat down on a rock that wasn’t there before, and for the first time in years, I didn’t need to be anywhere else.