The air shimmered, not with heat, but with a cold, alien light. I was floating, not in the familiar confines of my bedroom, but in a vast, echoing space. Flickering shadows danced around me, twisting into grotesque shapes that seemed to writhe with a malevolent hunger. A piercing scream echoed, swallowed by the emptiness. Then another, and another, each one fading into a guttural moan.
My hands, instinctively, reached out. They felt… different. Stronger, almost electric. I could feel the raw, primal fear emanating from the shadows, a tide of terror washing over me, pressing against my very being. I was part of it, somehow. The shadows were not just images, but feelings, raw and visceral, the echoes of a terrible thing that had happened, or was about to. But it wasn't complete. The scene fractured, dissolving into a kaleidoscope of colours before reforming into a blurry image of panicked faces and a deafening roar. Then, nothing.
A harsh jolt. My eyes snapped open, the dream-space dissolving into the familiar, sterile white of my bedroom. My breath hitched. I was still clutching a phantom hand. My heart hammered against my ribs. The room was filled with the smell of Dad's coffee and Mom's faint perfume.
"Lynn! Breakfast is ready!" Mom's voice, sharp and urgent, cut through the lingering dread.
A wave of relief, so sharp it almost hurt, washed over me. I was home. Safe. The dream was gone. Just another nightmare.
"Coming!" I mumbled, pulling myself up in bed. This was the normal world, the world I knew, the world where I was… just Lynn. A normal girl, a normal student. I wished my dreams would disappear too. They're the only place I could feel... something, something different.
I forced a smile as I got out of bed, the dream still a hazy echo in my mind.
Dad was already at the breakfast table, the aroma of bacon filling the air. He kissed my forehead, a quick, warm press. "Ready for school, sweetheart?" His smile was reassuring.
"Yeah, Dad," I replied, trying to sound normal. "Just need to get dressed."
I quickly threw on my uniform, my mind racing. The dream, the terror, the power...I had to be careful. It was an odd feeling and it seemed to happen every night. I had to find out more without letting my mother know something was wrong. I'm just a normal student, that's all I am, I told myself again and again as I sat down at the table.
I took a bite of bacon. It tasted normal. Just like it always did.
Later, as I walked out of the house, hand in hand with Mom, I tried to place it somewhere, this strange urge to reach out and grasp something, to feel the pain and fear of something I didn't understand. Maybe, just maybe, it was just a very vivid dream.
"Lynn, darling, you're going to be late!" Mom's voice broke through my thoughts. She gave me a quick hug. "Run, you'll miss the bus!"
I nodded, forcing a reassuring smile. I was just Lynn. A normal girl on her way to school, no more. But when I closed my eyes at the end of the day, the night fell into another dream. The shadows were there, still waiting. And I knew, with an unsettling certainty, that they wouldn't be gone for long.
The recurring dreams continued, each one more vivid, more terrifying, more…real. They weren't just visions; they were sensations. A physical pressure against my skin, a phantom weight on my chest, the echoing screams vibrating in my very bones. And always, the incomplete nature of it, the fractured images that left me gasping for air when I woke. I tried to ignore them, to dismiss them as the byproduct of a restless sleep. But they were persistent, inescapable.
I started noticing patterns, fleeting glimpses of faces I couldn't quite place, environments that felt oddly familiar despite never having seen them before. There was a recurring image of a towering, obsidian structure, its sharp edges reflecting a blood-red sky. A swirling vortex of shadows seemed to emanate from its depths. Each time, I felt an irresistible pull toward it, a yearning I couldn't comprehend.
At school, I tried to compartmentalize it. I played with my friends, excelled in my studies, and acted like any normal teenager. But the dreams gnawed at the edges of my consciousness, leaving me feeling strangely disconnected, as if a part of me was trapped in that other world, in those silent screams and monstrous shadows. The normal world, the world of exams and friendships, felt muted, somehow unreal.
One afternoon, during a particularly intense dream, I felt a strange tingling sensation in my fingertips. As the shadows pressed in, I instinctively reached out, and a shock, a surge of raw energy, coursed through me. The feeling was almost familiar.
My eyes flew open. I was sitting at my desk, the classroom around me a blurry tapestry of colours. It had been a dream. The tingling persisted. This time, I didn't shut my eyes.
I tried to shake it off but when I focused hard on the image of the obsidian structure, I felt a strange connection. A sense of… belonging? It was as though the building was trying to speak to me, trying to communicate with me.
That night, I had a different dream. The obsidian building was clearer, less ominous, almost… comforting. The images were still there, but this time, the shadows didn't press. Instead, they formed shapes – intricate patterns that seemed to pulse with a faint inner light. I understood the connection.
In the weeks that followed, the dreams didn't disappear, but they changed. The terror was still present, but it was tempered by a strange, almost mathematical understanding. The patterns, the whispers, the fragmented images were like pieces of a puzzle, slowly fitting together. I was beginning to see. I was beginning to understand that something inside me, some hidden part of my being, was trying to communicate.
And as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, a new question, a terrifying and exhilarating question, rose from the depths of my mind. Who was I? What was this power that pulsed within me, this strange connection to a world beyond my comprehension? The journey had just begun. The nightmares were still there, but now they were… a warning, a guide, a message. I was no longer just Lynn. I was something more. Something… different.