It couldn’t be real.
Jenny looked at the stone in the exhibit in front of her, unbelieving.
The rock, part of the traveling exhibit, was from the Moon, brought back by Apollo 16, 43 years earlier. She had never seen it, didn’t even know it was part of the exhibit. And yet, she knew every bump, every grain, every pit, every shadow on its surface.
She had dreamt about the stone for weeks.
The recurring dream was curious at first, but after 23 straight nights, she started worrying for her sanity. The dream had no subtext or characters or other symbols. It was just the stone — this stone — floating in front of her, and her staring at it, unable to touch it.
Just as she was doing at that very moment, unable to touch it behind its protective glass.
After the third night, she consulted a dream dictionary and read that the symbol of “moon” could mean a hidden part of yourself wants to emerge, or it could signify changing moods. None of those really connected with her. And, besides, it wasn’t the Moon she was dreaming of. It was this piece of it.
“It’s something, isn’t it?” said the old woman next to her. Jenny hadn’t noticed her approach. “To think that this is a piece of something so… unreachable.”
The woman spoke of physical miles, but to Jenny, the rock had come a much more unimaginable distance — from her dream into reality.