I dreamed I was a cloud that forgot how to rain

I was a slow, grey mass drifting over a city I didn’t recognize—no buildings, just long shadows and the smell of wet pavement before the storm. I kept trying to remember what it felt like to fall, but my edges were too soft, too full of stillness. Then I saw a dog on a rooftop, looking up at me with its head tilted, like it knew I was supposed to do something. I woke up with my shoulders tense, as if I’d been holding my breath for hours. The sky outside is clear now. But I keep checking.