A DREAM THAT DREAMT ME

 A Dream That Dreamt Me

1. The Beginning of the Unseen

I never imagined that a single night could change my perception of reality, but it happened. One moment, I was sinking into the familiar warmth of my bed, surrendering to sleep as I had done countless times before. The next, I was in a different place—a realm where nothing was ordinary, where the air felt alive with possibilities and the colors were brighter, richer, almost too vivid for human eyes to absorb. But this was no ordinary dream. It was as if the dream was dreaming me.

There was no clear transition, no sense of floating or fading into this strange world. I simply was. The air was sweet and heavy, tingling against my skin, and I felt a breeze whisper my name—not in the way one imagines hearing it in their mind, but as though the wind itself had a voice.

2. The City of Fractured Mirrors

I found myself standing at the edge of a city I’d never seen before. Tall towers of translucent glass rose into the sky, their surfaces shimmering as if they were made of liquid. Everything was reflected—my own face, half-formed and flickering, stared back at me from every angle. The buildings bent and twisted, constantly shifting their shapes. It was a city of fractured mirrors, where light danced playfully, hiding and revealing hidden paths in an endless cycle.

People moved around me, yet they weren’t people as I knew them. They were shadows with eyes—glimmering with intelligence but empty, their faces a blur. They seemed to glide rather than walk, their bodies phasing through the shifting architecture, unaffected by its constant change. I felt watched, yet strangely unafraid.

One of the figures, taller than the others and wrapped in a cloak of midnight blue, approached me. Without speaking, it extended a hand, pointing towards a path that led deeper into the city. I felt a tug, not on my body, but on my very soul, urging me to follow.

3. The Garden of Forgotten Voices

The path took me to a garden, though no ordinary garden. It was filled with flowers that glowed in hues I had no names for—petals that seemed to hum with a melody only my heart could understand. Trees towered above me, their branches intertwined like skeletal fingers, whispering secrets in a language just beyond my comprehension.

As I walked, the flowers began to sing. Soft, melancholic notes floated around me, each one resonating deep within my chest. I realized that each bloom held a memory, a voice from the past that had been forgotten. They sang of lost loves, of broken promises, and dreams that had died long ago. Somehow, I knew they were singing my own story, though I had never lived the events they described.

I reached out to touch one of the flowers—a delicate white blossom that pulsed with a gentle glow. The moment my fingers brushed its petals, the world shifted again.

4. The Sky Beneath the Ground

I was falling, yet there was no fear, only a strange sensation of weightlessness. The ground dissolved beneath my feet, and I found myself suspended in an expanse of endless sky. Clouds swirled below me, and above, the stars shone with a brilliance that seemed almost sentient, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.

There was no up or down—only a feeling of infinite space stretching in every direction. I drifted, feeling as if I were being pulled gently by an unseen force, drawn toward a bright light that shimmered in the distance. It was not like any light I had seen before; it was alive, shifting and swirling like liquid gold.

As I floated closer, I saw that the light was a doorway. Its edges crackled with energy, and through it, I caught glimpses of another world—lush forests, crystalline lakes, and a sky that burned with shades of crimson and violet. I knew instinctively that crossing this threshold would change me forever, but I couldn’t resist.

5. The Realm of Eternal Twilight

I stepped through the doorway and found myself in a place that defied logic—a world bathed in eternal twilight, where the sun hung motionless on the horizon, casting a perpetual golden glow over the land. The air was warm and fragrant, filled with the scent of blooming nightshade and earth after rain. Time seemed to slow, each second stretching into eternity.

Creatures I could not name moved around me—some familiar, like deer with coats of silver, and others fantastical, like dragonflies with wings of stained glass. They watched me with eyes that seemed to know every secret I had ever kept, every thought I had ever had. I felt exposed, yet there was no judgment in their gaze—only curiosity.

A path of silver stones lay before me, winding through the tall grass, leading to a massive tree in the distance. It was unlike any tree I had seen before, its trunk thick and twisted, its bark glowing with a soft, internal light. I felt the pull again, stronger this time, and I began to walk.

6. The Tree of Echoing Dreams

The tree loomed larger as I approached, its branches stretching out like the arms of a giant. Its leaves shimmered with a thousand colors, reflecting not only the twilight but moments of my life—some I remembered, others that felt like they belonged to someone else. I could hear whispers in the wind, fragments of conversations, half-formed thoughts, and dreams that had never come to pass.

I placed my hand on the trunk, and the world around me vanished. I was standing in darkness, yet I could see clearly. Before me was a mirror—not like the fractured reflections in the city, but whole and perfect, showing my face as it was. But my eyes… my eyes were different. They glowed with the same light I had seen in the stars, and I realized that this was not a reflection of who I was, but of who I could become.

The mirror rippled like water, and I stepped through.

7. The Lake of Reversed Time

On the other side was a lake, its surface perfectly still, reflecting the sky above—a sky now filled with swirling galaxies and nebulae, as if the entire universe had folded in on itself. The air was cool, and the ground beneath my feet felt like glass, smooth and fragile.

I knelt by the water’s edge, peering into its depths. Faces floated there—faces I recognized, though I couldn’t place them. They were all smiling, their expressions serene, as if they knew something I didn’t. Then, as if drawn by some invisible force, I touched the water.

Ripples spread, and with them came a flood of memories—memories that were not my own. I saw cities I had never visited, people I had never met, and lives I had never lived. The water showed me moments of profound joy and sorrow, triumphs and failures, all linked to me by a thread I could not understand.

I felt time itself slow, then begin to move backward. I watched the stars above me reverse their dance, spinning back to their original positions, and the water grew cold beneath my hand. In that moment, I realized that the lake was not just a mirror of time but a way to rewrite it.    

8. The Choice Beyond the Veil

A voice, soft and familiar, echoed across the lake—a voice that was my own, yet different, older, wiser. It asked a question I couldn’t hear, but somehow, I knew what it wanted to know. The choice was simple yet impossible: to stay in this world, to become a part of its dream, or to return to the life I knew, leaving behind the wonders and mysteries that had become a part of me.

I hesitated, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on me. The twilight world was beautiful, infinite in its possibilities, but it was not real—or was it? I looked back at the tree, its branches swaying gently, and then at the lake, where the faces had begun to fade, replaced by my own reflection.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and made my choice.

9. The Awakening to the Unseen

I awoke with a start, the familiar comfort of my bed surrounding me, the early morning light filtering through the curtains. For a moment, I lay still, half-expecting the world around me to shimmer and shift like the dream I had left behind. But everything was as it had always been—or so it seemed.

Yet, as I rose and walked to the window, something had changed. I could still feel the hum of that other world, a gentle thrumming in my chest, as if it had taken root inside me. The ordinary now seemed extraordinary—the light outside brighter, the sounds sharper, the air heavier with unspoken secrets.

And then I saw it—a single flower, glowing softly on my windowsill, the same delicate bloom I had touched in the garden of forgotten voices. It was real, and with it came the knowledge that the dream had not ended, not truly. It was part of me, woven into the fabric of my soul, waiting for the next time I closed my eyes.

10. The Echo That Never Fades

The days passed, but the memory of the dream never dulled. It remained as clear as the moment I had first stepped into that world, a beacon of light in the mundane routine of daily life. Sometimes, in the quiet moments, I would catch a glimpse of something out of place—a shadow moving when it shouldn’t, a flash of color in the corner of my eye. I knew then that the dream was still dreaming me, that it had left its mark.

It was not a story with an ending, but the beginning of a new understanding—that reality and dreams were not separate, but intertwined. Every night, as I drifted off to sleep, I wondered if I would return to that world of fractured mirrors, of twilight skies, and singing flowers.

Perhaps one day I would, or perhaps it had already happened. Because once a dream dreams you, it never truly lets go.

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