"Every night, I fall in love with her.
And every morning… she forgets me."
---
The clock read 2:13 a.m. The city outside my window slept beneath layers of streetlight and distant dreams. But I couldn't sleep.
Again.
Because I knew what was waiting for me when I closed my eyes.
Her.
I don't know when it started — maybe a few weeks ago, maybe a few months. Time felt strange inside the dream. But each night, as if pulled by invisible strings, I'd fall asleep… and find myself standing under a sky more beautiful than anything real. The stars were closer. The air was quieter. The world felt softer.
And she would be there.
The girl.
She never told me her name.
Not once.
But I called her **Yume** — Dream — because that's where she belonged. And because the first time I saw her, she smiled and whispered:
**"We only meet when the world forgets."**
It sounded like poetry. Maybe it was.
---
"Hey," she'd say softly, twirling strands of her dark hair between her fingers, standing under the sakura tree that bloomed even though it wasn't spring. "You came again."
"I always do," I'd answer.
She would laugh. The kind of laugh that didn't echo — it melted into the air like snowfall.
We'd walk through the quiet streets, sometimes holding hands, sometimes not. Sometimes she'd talk about the stars. Other times, she'd hum a song I couldn't remember when I woke up. But we never talked about why we were there, or how it all worked.
Maybe because neither of us knew.
Maybe because we were afraid to break it.
---
But this night felt different.
She looked sad.
Even in the dream.
Her hands trembled as she reached for mine. Her voice, always soft and floating, felt heavier tonight.
"Do you believe people can meet in dreams?" she asked.
I blinked. "Aren't we already doing that?"
She shook her head slowly. "No… I mean really meet. Like… their souls. Not just the brain making fake things."
Her words hit me harder than they should have.
Because I had started believing it too.
Because this—whatever this was—felt more real than anything outside.
The real world? It was crowded. Boring. Loud. Filled with people I didn't want to see, doing things I didn't care about.
But her?
She made the air feel warmer.
---
That night, under the starlit dream-sky, we sat by a river that didn't exist.
And I said something I'd never said before.
"Yume," I whispered.
She looked up. Her eyes were wide. Expectant.
"I think I'm in love with you."
Silence.
No soft reply. No playful smile.
Just the sound of distant wind in a dream that suddenly felt colder.
She didn't speak. She just leaned forward and touched her forehead to mine.
Her voice came in a whisper, barely audible.
**"Then I hope you'll forgive me tomorrow."**
---
I woke up crying.
Not loud. Just a single tear. I didn't even know why.
But I felt it — the weight of something unfinished.
The pain of being remembered by someone who would forget.
---
Monday morning felt like every other.
I walked into school half-awake, my headphones drowning out the world, trying to hold onto whatever I could from the dream.
The hallway buzzed with the usual noise — sneakers against tile, half-asleep students, cheap perfume, laughter that wasn't mine.
And then I saw her.
At the end of the hallway.
No, not "her."
**Yume.**
She was standing by the lockers. The same hair. The same face. The same eyes I'd stared into just a few hours ago in another world.
But she wasn't looking at me.
She was laughing.
Talking to someone else.
Wearing a different uniform.
She glanced in my direction — just for a second.
Our eyes met.
My heart nearly stopped.
And then…
She looked right through me.
Like I was no one.
---
**She didn't remember.**
Just like every morning before.
Except this time, it wasn't just a dream anymore.
This was real.
She was real.
And I was alone again.
---
> "The night brought you to me.
> But the morning took you away."
---