The worst part about waking up isn’t opening your eyes.

It’s realizing that whatever existed in your dreams no longer exists at all.

One moment, you’re living inside a world that feels so real your heart can’t tell the difference. The next, you’re staring at a ceiling, listening to the sounds of ordinary life, forced to accept that none of it ever happened.

This is the story of a dream I wish I had never woken up from.

It had been one of those exhausting days that seemed to drain every bit of energy from my body. My grandmother, who lived in the province, had come to stay with us for a short visit. She had arrived the day before because she had an appointment with her doctor here in the city.

The house had been unusually busy since morning.

Family members moved in and out of rooms. Conversations echoed through hallways. Dishes piled up after meals. By lunchtime, everyone was ready to head home again.

After they left, my mom and I spent the afternoon cleaning the house. We washed dishes, wiped down tables, put things back where they belonged, and restored the quiet that had disappeared with the arrival of our guests.

By the time we finished, I felt completely drained.

My body ached from moving around all day, and my eyelids felt heavy.

Later that afternoon, my boyfriend John called me.

“Do you want to sleep?” I asked.

“I’m tired too.”

That was all the convincing either of us needed.

We stayed on call, talking lazily until our voices slowly faded into silence. Somewhere between one conversation and the next, before we knew it, we had both fallen asleep.

And that’s where this story begins.

I don’t remember how the dream started.

Dreams are strange that way. They drop you into a world without explanations and somehow convince you that everything makes perfect sense.

What I do remember is the room.

My room.

Or at least something that looked exactly like it.

The walls were familiar. The furniture sat where it always had. The lighting felt warm and soft, like late evening.

In the dream, relatives from another city had come back to visit our hometown. One of my cousins had brought along a few friends.

There was a girl in the room whom I somehow recognized as my cousin. Looking back now, I don’t think she exists in real life. But inside the dream, there wasn’t a single doubt in my mind.

I knew she was family.

That’s all that mattered.

Two guys had come with her.

One seemed suspiciously close to her—close enough that I assumed he was a boyfriend she hadn’t introduced to the family yet.

The other was simply their friend.

At least, that’s how he started.

Let’s call him Mr. Down Bad.

At some point in the evening, both my cousin and the guy I assumed was her boyfriend had fallen asleep.

My cousin occupied most of the bed that I was supposed to sleep on.

The other guy slept on the floor.

Only one person remained awake.

Mr. Down Bad.

When I entered the room, I had just finished taking a bath. A towel was wrapped around me, and my damp hair still clung to my shoulders.

Mr. Down Bad sat in my gaming chair facing my desk.

I don’t remember what he was doing.

What I do remember is him looking up the moment I walked in.

Our eyes met.

For a brief second, neither of us said anything.

Then he stood up and left the room to grab something.

While he was gone, I sat on the edge of my bed.

I planned on changing clothes.

I never got the chance.

Because a moment later, he returned.

And somehow, that simple moment changed everything.

He sat down across from me.

At first, the conversation was innocent.

Casual.

Meaningless.

The kind of conversation strangers have when they’re trying to fill silence.

I asked him how he knew my family.

He laughed and explained that he didn’t actually know my grandmother at all. He had only come along because our mutual friend was close with my cousin’s family.

One topic became another.

Then another.

Then another.

Minutes passed.

Maybe an hours.

Time worked differently in dreams.

The longer we talked, the more natural it felt.

Like we had known each other before.

Like we were remembering something rather than learning it for the first time.

There was an undeniable chemistry between us.

Not the kind people immediately notice.

The dangerous kind.

The kind that builds slowly.

The kind that sneaks up on you.

The kind that makes eye contact last a little too long.

At some point, he glanced at the towel wrapped around me and smirked.

“Are you still planning on changing?” he asked. “Or are you actually going to sleep like that?”

I rolled my eyes.

“I didn’t realize you were so invested in my outfit.”

That made him laugh first.

Then I did too.

It was stupid, but it felt natural between us.

Then the laughter faded.

The silence returned.

And suddenly, the room felt much smaller.

Neither of us looked away.

Neither of us moved.

Yet somehow everything between us changed.

Slowly, he reached for my waist.

I should have pulled away.

I didn’t.

Instead, I found myself leaning closer.

Closer.

And closer.

Until I ended up sitting on his lap.

The air felt heavier.

The room felt warmer.

My heart pounded so loudly I was certain he could hear it.

For a second, nobody spoke.

Then he looked at me.

And I knew exactly what was about to happen.

When he kissed me, it felt like every thought inside my head disappeared.

The room vanished.

The sleeping people inside the room vanished.

Even time itself seemed to disappear.

There was only that moment.

Only him.

Only us.

And for a terrifying second, I forgot everything else.

Forgot who I was.

Forgot where I was.

Forgot that somewhere beyond the dream, another life existed.

Then reality tried to force its way back in.

I suddenly had the feeling that the other guy sleeping nearby was about to wake up.

The feeling was so strong that I immediately pulled away.

The moment ended.

Too soon.

Far too soon.

When I looked back at him, he was already staring at me.

There was disappointment in his eyes.

A silent question.

Why did you stop?

I couldn’t help smiling.

And maybe, wanting to tease him a little, I kissed his neck for a short moment and quickly pulled away.

That only made the look on his face worse.

Which made me laugh.

And somehow, that tiny interaction became one of the clearest memories from the entire dream.

But dreams aren’t meant to last forever.

Just as quickly as everything had begun, an annoying sound cut through the silence.

At first, it blended into the dream.

Then it grew louder.

And louder.

And louder.

Until my eyes snapped open.

Reality hit me all at once.

My room.

My phone.

My boyfriend.

The call.

I could hear John’s brother laughing loudly on the phone while trying to wake him up.

The dream shattered instantly.

Gone.

Just like that.

And for a moment, lying there in the darkness, I felt something unexpected.

Disappointment.

Not because of John.

Not because of reality.

But because I had wanted to know what happened next.

I wanted the dream to continue.

I wanted to stay there a little longer.

Instead, I was awake.

And the world I had been living in only moments before had disappeared.

I stayed still for a moment, staring at the darkness of my room as reality fully settled in. The sound on the phone was still there, the familiar weight of my life slowly replacing the one I had just been in.

I turned slightly, pulling the blanket over me, trying to get comfortable again. The dream was already gone, slipping further away the more I tried to hold onto it.

But even as I lay there, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

About him.

And somehow, I felt a quiet sense of guilt settle in.

Because even though it wasn’t real, a part of me still knew how wrong it felt in the context of my real life. It didn’t make sense to feel that way about something that only existed in a dream, and yet the feeling lingered anyway.

I told myself it didn’t matter—it was just a dream, nothing more.

But even as I tried to rationalize it, another part of me refused to let it go completely.

A part of me wanted to believe that maybe, somehow, it could be real.

The thought didn’t make sense. I knew that. I knew it was impossible, and maybe even wrong to think about it like that.

But the feeling stayed with me anyway.

The worst part about waking up isn’t opening your eyes.

It’s realizing that whatever existed in your dreams no longer exists at all.

One moment, you’re living inside a world that feels so real your heart can’t tell the difference. The next, you’re staring at a ceiling, listening to the sounds of ordinary life, forced to accept that none of it ever happened.

This is the story of a dream I wish I had never woken up from.

It had been one of those exhausting days that seemed to drain every bit of energy from my body. My grandmother, who lived in the province, had come to stay with us for a short visit. She had arrived the day before because she had an appointment with her doctor here in the city.

The house had been unusually busy since morning.

Family members moved in and out of rooms. Conversations echoed through hallways. Dishes piled up after meals. By lunchtime, everyone was ready to head home again.

After they left, my mom and I spent the afternoon cleaning the house. We washed dishes, wiped down tables, put things back where they belonged, and restored the quiet that had disappeared with the arrival of our guests.

By the time we finished, I felt completely drained.

My body ached from moving around all day, and my eyelids felt heavy.

Later that afternoon, my boyfriend John called me.

“Do you want to sleep?” I asked.

“I’m tired too.”

That was all the convincing either of us needed.

We stayed on call, talking lazily until our voices slowly faded into silence. Somewhere between one conversation and the next, before we knew it, we had both fallen asleep.

And that’s where this story begins.

I don’t remember how the dream started.

Dreams are strange that way. They drop you into a world without explanations and somehow convince you that everything makes perfect sense.

What I do remember is the room.

My room.

Or at least something that looked exactly like it.

The walls were familiar. The furniture sat where it always had. The lighting felt warm and soft, like late evening.

In the dream, relatives from another city had come back to visit our hometown. One of my cousins had brought along a few friends.

There was a girl in the room whom I somehow recognized as my cousin. Looking back now, I don’t think she exists in real life. But inside the dream, there wasn’t a single doubt in my mind.

I knew she was family.

That’s all that mattered.

Two guys had come with her.

One seemed suspiciously close to her—close enough that I assumed he was a boyfriend she hadn’t introduced to the family yet.

The other was simply their friend.

At least, that’s how he started.

Let’s call him Mr. Down Bad.

At some point in the evening, both my cousin and the guy I assumed was her boyfriend had fallen asleep.

My cousin occupied most of the bed that I was supposed to sleep on.

The other guy slept on the floor.

Only one person remained awake.

Mr. Down Bad.

When I entered the room, I had just finished taking a bath. A towel was wrapped around me, and my damp hair still clung to my shoulders.

Mr. Down Bad sat in my gaming chair facing my desk.

I don’t remember what he was doing.

What I do remember is him looking up the moment I walked in.

Our eyes met.

For a brief second, neither of us said anything.

Then he stood up and left the room to grab something.

While he was gone, I sat on the edge of my bed.

I planned on changing clothes.

I never got the chance.

Because a moment later, he returned.

And somehow, that simple moment changed everything.

He sat down across from me.

At first, the conversation was innocent.

Casual.

Meaningless.

The kind of conversation strangers have when they’re trying to fill silence.

I asked him how he knew my family.

He laughed and explained that he didn’t actually know my grandmother at all. He had only come along because our mutual friend was close with my cousin’s family.

One topic became another.

Then another.

Then another.

Minutes passed.

Maybe an hours.

Time worked differently in dreams.

The longer we talked, the more natural it felt.

Like we had known each other before.

Like we were remembering something rather than learning it for the first time.

There was an undeniable chemistry between us.

Not the kind people immediately notice.

The dangerous kind.

The kind that builds slowly.

The kind that sneaks up on you.

The kind that makes eye contact last a little too long.

At some point, he glanced at the towel wrapped around me and smirked.

“Are you still planning on changing?” he asked. “Or are you actually going to sleep like that?”

I rolled my eyes.

“I didn’t realize you were so invested in my outfit.”

That made him laugh first.

Then I did too.

It was stupid, but it felt natural between us.

Then the laughter faded.

The silence returned.

And suddenly, the room felt much smaller.

Neither of us looked away.

Neither of us moved.

Yet somehow everything between us changed.

Slowly, he reached for my waist.

I should have pulled away.

I didn’t.

Instead, I found myself leaning closer.

Closer.

And closer.

Until I ended up sitting on his lap.

The air felt heavier.

The room felt warmer.

My heart pounded so loudly I was certain he could hear it.

For a second, nobody spoke.

Then he looked at me.

And I knew exactly what was about to happen.

When he kissed me, it felt like every thought inside my head disappeared.

The room vanished.

The sleeping people inside the room vanished.

Even time itself seemed to disappear.

There was only that moment.

Only him.

Only us.

And for a terrifying second, I forgot everything else.

Forgot who I was.

Forgot where I was.

Forgot that somewhere beyond the dream, another life existed.

Then reality tried to force its way back in.

I suddenly had the feeling that the other guy sleeping nearby was about to wake up.

The feeling was so strong that I immediately pulled away.

The moment ended.

Too soon.

Far too soon.

When I looked back at him, he was already staring at me.

There was disappointment in his eyes.

A silent question.

Why did you stop?

I couldn’t help smiling.

And maybe, wanting to tease him a little, I kissed his neck roughly for a short moment and quickly pulled away.

That only made the look on his face worse.

Which made me laugh.

And somehow, that tiny interaction became one of the clearest memories from the entire dream.

But dreams aren’t meant to last forever.

Just as quickly as everything had begun, an annoying sound cut through the silence.

At first, it blended into the dream.

Then it grew louder.

And louder.

And louder.

Until my eyes snapped open.

Reality hit me all at once.

My room.

My phone.

My boyfriend.

The call.

I could hear John’s brother laughing loudly on the phone while trying to wake him up.

The dream shattered instantly.

Gone.

Just like that.

And for a moment, lying there in the darkness, I felt something unexpected.

Disappointment.

Not because of John.

Not because of reality.

But because I had wanted to know what happened next.

I wanted the dream to continue.

I wanted to stay there a little longer.

Instead, I was awake.

And the world I had been living in only moments before had disappeared.

I stayed still for a moment, staring at the darkness of my room as reality fully settled in. The sound on the phone was still there, the familiar weight of my life slowly replacing the one I had just been in.

I turned slightly, pulling the blanket over me, trying to get comfortable again. The dream was already gone, slipping further away the more I tried to hold onto it.

But even as I lay there, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

About him.

And somehow, I felt a quiet sense of guilt settle in.

Because even though it wasn’t real, a part of me still knew how wrong it felt in the context of my real life. It didn’t make sense to feel that way about something that only existed in a dream, and yet the feeling lingered anyway.

I told myself it didn’t matter—it was just a dream, nothing more.

But even as I tried to rationalize it, another part of me refused to let it go completely.

A part of me wanted to believe that maybe, somehow, it could be real.

The thought didn’t make sense. I knew that. I knew it was impossible, and maybe even wrong to think about it like that.

But the feeling stayed with me anyway.

The teacher’s voice blended into the background as I stared blankly at the board, pretending to listen. My mind wasn’t really there. It hadn’t been for a while now.

“Viv!”

“Vivienne!”

A voice snapped me slightly back to reality.

I turned my head.

It was Stacy, my best friend since middle school, sitting beside me, leaning in just a little with a curious look on her face.

“What’s been on your mind lately?” she asked. “You’ve been so distracted these past few days. What happened to you? You’re usually so active, or always doing something. Now you’re just… quiet.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the question.

For a second, I almost laughed it off.

“I’m fine, tay” I said instead, forcing a small smile. “Just tired, I guess.”

Stacy didn’t look convinced.

She never really did when I lied.

But she didn’t push further either. Instead, she leaned back in her seat, still watching me like she was trying to figure something out I wasn’t saying out loud.

And I just looked away.

Back to the board.

Back to reality.

…

John and I had been on and off for a while now, and I didn’t really know how to explain it in a way that made sense. Lately, I felt like I was slowly drifting away from him—at least mentally.

It wasn’t because of a fight or because he had done something wrong. If anything, he had been nothing but good to me. But somehow, I found myself feeling distant, like a part of me was somewhere else entirely.

No matter how hard I tried to ignore it, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed.

Something keeps on pulling me back into this heavy, sinking feeling I couldn’t explain. Like I was stuck in a place I kept trying to leave, but always ended up finding my way back to.

A kind of sadness I couldn’t quite name.

And I didn’t know if it was him.

Or me.

Or something else entirely.

…

The bell rang, cutting through the quiet hum of the classroom.

I started packing my things, slipping my notebook into my bag, already thinking about getting out of there.

As I stood up, Stacy followed me out of my seat.

“Wait!” she said, catching up to me as we walked down the aisle. “Do you have anything planned for tonight?”

I shook my head slightly. “Probably just going home.”

She hesitated for a second, then smiled like she had just remembered something.

“So… a guy friend I met in one of my classes is having a small party later” she said. “He told me to bring a friend. Do you maybe… want to come?”

I paused mid-step.

“A party?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Nothing crazy. Just a small get-together.”

I wasn’t really in the mood.

Not lately.

But Stacy was already looking at me like she expected me to say yes, like she had already decided I was going anyway.

“Pretty please!” she groaned dramatically. “We never go out anymore, Viv. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

And for a second, I almost said no.

Almost.

I looked at her hopeful face and let out a sigh.

“Fine,” I said. “But if it ends up being boring, I’m blaming you.”

Stacy gasped, placing a hand over her chest as if I had just deeply offended her.

“Boring? With me there? Impossible.”

I rolled my eyes, but a small laugh escaped me anyway.

“There she is,” Stacy said, pointing at me. “I knew you were still alive somewhere in there.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

She linked her arm through mine as we walked out of the classroom together.

“Eight o’clock! My house! Don’t be late!”

“No promises.”

“Vivienne.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there.”

A satisfied grin spread across her face.

As we stepped outside the building, the afternoon sun hit us immediately. Students crowded the walkways, eager to start their weekend. Normally, I’d be just as excited.

Today, I felt nothing.

Just the same heaviness that had followed me around for weeks.

…

It had already been a month since that weird dream.

I didn’t quite understand why it was that dream that stayed with me.

I’d had thousands of dreams before. Strange ones. Funny ones. Nightmares I’d forgotten the moment I woke up.

But after that night, everything felt different.

What’s even weirder was that I couldn’t remember any of the dreams I had after it. Maybe I had them. Maybe I didn’t. Either way, they never stayed.

That one did.

But eventually, it stopped mattering.

Or at least, that’s what I told myself.

The dream became just another memory tucked away somewhere in the back of my mind. Life moved on, and so did I. Classes got busier, days became repetitive, and before I knew it, a month had already passed.

I had forgotten about it.

Or maybe I had simply chosen to.

Either way, I was trying to move forward with my life, even if life itself felt a little emptier lately. Not necessarily bad—just different. Like I was going through the motions of each day without really being present for any of it.

Still, I kept going.