Jiyong dreams of it more often then he will ever admit.  Dreams of an overpowering love that carry him away into a different lifetime, fill with adventures.  He dreams of her.  A different her, a different time, but always the same person. 

She was a warrior, defeated him in battle and he fell madly in love. 

She was a nurse in the front line, cleaning his wounds, begging him to stay with her. 

She was a poet, long before, before females were allow to leave the house, she wrote of an all consuming love and he comes home after toiling in the fields all day, and gives her his heart. 

She was a dancer, so graceful, even in death, and he followed. 

He dreams of her, always, relentlessly. 

He would wake up to a small breeze, even if his windows were closed. 

Be happy child. 

He always get up and go out his days like nothing is out of the ordinary, even as he see shadows of two lovers dancing in the corner of his eyes. 

He had a nose bleed once, his first one that he can remember.  They were telling him to tilt his heads up and go to the nurse.  A voice, her voice, laugh silently.

“What am I going to do with you my dragon?  You’re suppose to tilt your head down, forward.” 

A cheeky smile, “Maybe I just want to hear you talk,”

Jiyong smiled and as he walked the lonely hallway to the nurse, he tilted his head down, remembering a nurse, in WWI, telling a soldier that tilting back will