Dream

Sometimes, for whatever reason, I remember a dream I had so many years ago. Sometime maybe when I was a teenager.
In the dream, I had a daughter. I'd gone into the bathroom because my nose was starting to bleed and I didn't want her to see it. I was looking into the mirror, and when I turned towards the door, there was this 5 or 6 year old girl. Her hair was black, her eyes a beautiful shade of blue. She had such a serious look on her face. Her name was Rebecca. Becca.
My smart, serious daughter.
And she held out a tissue to me.

I don't know why I still remember that dream. I don't know why I remembered it tonight.