Different Means of Speaking

I'm half asleep in a bedroom at my dad's house. it's not dark enough so I'm sort of covering my head, and holding my phone. I hear the door open and someone enters the room, I immediately close my eyes and feign sleep, listening to the person approach me. Not certain whether it is my dad or not, a figure comes up to me, does not say anything, and whether they are convinced I'm sleeping or not, they drop a couple of small animals onto my chest. The person, I think is my dad but still not sure, exits the room, and I pet the cat for a while, on the bed with me. I can hear the other one walking around, and eventually it licks me, my eyes are still shut, so I guess that it's lucy. I play with it, and the cat, when I open my eyes it is actually two cats. There is a darkish gray one, still on my body and an equally lean one the same size but orange, further down the bed. I am happy and pet them and play with them more, even though their being there didn't make complete sense to me, I didn't care. A bit later someone else enters the room, it's a tall silhouette but not as tall, and discernibly female. The girl seems older than I am, sweet, black straight hair, dark freckles on her back in a strappy sundress. I'm still lying there not really able to move, she comes to the left side of the bed, the room is totally light, sunny now, and we connect (somehow) for a while. what seems like hours go by, or least a long time, we never speak and it's nice, finally I break, from the silent seriousness, the looking, and smile widely. She watches me closely, and this makes her smile big too, so we smile together and it feels good. After this she puts her elbow on the bed, arm up, and is blank expression-ed again. It is her right arm, and she wants to arm wrestle, in a playful way, but we do not know each other and she does not know that I am left-handed. I pause a moment thinking of all this, then reach for her arm with my own right arm. We rest there for a bit, applying no force, looking each other in the eyes. I move my arm, putting some pressure towards my left, she does the same, we lightly do this back and forth. I try then to push her arm down and I do, curious a little that I won with my weaker arm, but she wasn't really trying. I motion for her to switch arms, so that we can do this with our lefts. She looks at me confused then, furrowed brows, and tilting her little bob, her bangs stay the same, but her hair falls to her right. I say aloud then that I am left-handed, which is why I suggested we switch, she looks a little surprised, and I assume it's because she did not think of that, then she responds "you speak, in a different voice". It was strange finally hearing the sound of each other, I liked how I thought that she was explaining it; like we had been talking all day wordlessly. We try with our left hands, then give up fairly quickly, laughing at it. She's on the edge of the bed now, and I am laying again, she is seated sort of awkwardly, so I try to scoot over to make more room, but I'm so wrapped and tangled in the blankets that I can't. I do my best, then speak again, that she should lay next to me if she would like to. I wanted to kiss her maybe, or just feel close to her. I realize I am in my bra, and she doesn't mind, she also takes off the top part of her blue dress, and comes to lay with me. We are facing each other, and I am increasingly aware that I cannot move, she watches as I struggle to reposition. She is quiet, and I tell her I'm just going to face the same way she is, and do my best to do so. I didn't feel close enough but there was nothing I could do. Someone comes into the house to get her, whoever she came with. I ask if she was staying here, and she never answers. She stands up, a little disheveled, and quickly puts her dress back on before anyone enters the bedroom door. I watch from the bed, and realize that the situation would be easily misinterpreted by someone else seeing it. I look at her hair, I look at her pretty face, I look out of the window to my right and there are cars and people leaving. I observe the three cars, parked differently all over the driveway, and wonder which one she will be getting to. She's gone when I look back, so I try to watch her leave instead, but I never see her outside. The first car leaves, the van, and I give up, and begin to look around the room. On top of the bookshelf, near the window, I see a white mannequin face, on its head is a black wig, a very short bob, short straight bags, light and a bit crooked, and I try to understand. Was this one of her's? What does that mean? I think of the story with a sci-fi ending; she wasn't real all along.