Everyone was crying.
The sound was loud, broken—voices collapsing into one another like waves crashing over a corpse.
Flowers surrounded the body. White. Blue. Too many.
The boy stood among them, trembling.
"Hey… it's me," he said, his voice shaking.
"That's me. I didn't die. I'm right here."
No one heard him.
Hands passed through him as if he were air. Faces twisted in grief, eyes red, tears falling onto a body that looked exactly like him.
Then—
The ground cracked.
The coffin shattered into darkness, and the world collapsed beneath his feet.
He was floating.
Naked. Weightless. Silent.
Stars stretched endlessly around him, galaxies breathing slowly like sleeping giants. His eyes were closed, his body drifting in the cold warmth of the universe.
Then—
he opened his eyes.
"Where… am I?"
His voice echoed, swallowed by infinity.
A whisper answered.
"This is the world of dreams."
The boy froze.
"Who are you?"
The darkness shifted. A presence pressed against his mind—ancient, heavy, overwhelming.
"I am Hypnos," the voice said.
"The god of sleep."
The stars dimmed.
"I am here to warn you," Hypnos continued.
"You are the future Dream God."
The boy's breath caught.
"Stay away from my role."
Before he could speak, an unseen force struck him.
The universe shattered.
He woke up gasping.
Sweat drenched his body as he inhaled sharply, his heart pounding like it was trying to escape his chest.
The clock beside his bed screamed into the silence.
7:00 AM.
The boy stared at the ceiling, breathing hard.
"…Who was that?"
A knock echoed from outside his room.
"Shakib?" his mother's voice called softly.
"Are you ready? Today is your bus journey, right? Your adventure trip."
Shakib sat up slowly, rubbing his face. His hands were still shaking—just a little.
"Yes… I'm coming," he replied.
The door opened.
His mother stood there, worry written clearly on her face. She stepped closer and placed a hand on his forehead.
"Are you okay, Shakib?" she asked. "You look pale."
Shakib forced a small smile.
"Yeah. I'm okay," he said. "I was just… dreaming."
She let out a gentle sigh of relief and smiled back.
"Oh," she said softly, brushing his hair. "That's alright then."
But as she turned to leave, Shakib glanced at the clock again.
7:00 AM.
And for a moment—
he could still hear a whisper.
"Mom," Shakib said quietly, "can I have a moment?"
She nodded and closed the door.
Shakib stood in front of the mirror.
His own face stared back at him—normal, tired, real. He washed his face, took a deep breath, and got ready for school, convincing himself it was just a dream.
The classroom was noisy.
Chairs scraped. Friends laughed. Morning sunlight poured through the windows.
"Attendance," the teacher said, opening the register.
One by one, names were called.
"Rahul."
"Present, sir."
"Ankit."
"Present."
"…Shakib Hasan."
Silence.
Shakib didn't answer.
His mind drifted.
Who was he?
Was it really just a dream?
Last year… he remembered something.
He had once seen a tree in his dream—half cut, broken at an angle.
Days later, while walking home, he had seen the exact same tree.
Same cut. Same position.
Another time. Another dream. Another coincidence.
Is this déjà vu?
Or… can I see the future?
"Shakib!"
The teacher's voice snapped him back to reality.
"Oh—present, sir!" Shakib said quickly.
The teacher frowned. "You should pay attention during attendance."
"My bad, sir," Shakib replied. "I was thinking."
Rahul leaned closer and whispered, "Bro… is something off?"
Shakib shook his head. "No. I was just dreaming something stupid. It can't be real."
He said it out loud—almost to convince himself
Later, everyone gathered to board the bus.
Laughter filled the air. Bags were thrown onto seats. It felt like a normal day.
Shakib stood still for a moment.
In his pocket, his fingers brushed against something small—a dried leaf he didn't remember picking up.
He looked around.
Can this just be a casual day?
Why does it feel like something is about to happen… something I don't want?
"It's just a dream," he muttered. "Just a dream."
Then he stepped onto the bus.
By the way," Shakib said, glancing to the side, "that's my friend—Rahul Jha."
Rahul sat beside him, leaning back comfortably.
"He's my classmate," Shakib continued in his thoughts. "He's from Bihar. Honestly, it's a good place—and I kind of like his accent. Sometimes I tease him about it, but yeah… overall, he's a great guy."
There was just one thing.
Rahul liked to notice girls.
A lot.
"Bro," Rahul said suddenly, nudging him with his elbow, "did you see it?"
"See what?" Shakib asked.
"The GTA 6 trailer," Rahul said, eyes lighting up. "It finally launched!"
Shakib smiled faintly. "Yeah, of course. I saw it yesterday. You know me—I've got a whole GTA collection. Now we just wait."
Rahul laughed. "That game's gonna be crazy."
"Yeah," Shakib replied quietly. "A lot of things are coming. A lot of things to see."
For a moment, his mind drifted again.
"I used to have another friend," Shakib said after a pause. "His name is Imran. He left school two years ago. He's doing great now—singing and all. I actually saw him yesterday."
Rahul nodded. "That's good, man."
Shakib looked out the bus window.
"And Assam's season right now…" he added. "It feels nice. Calm. I like it."
The bus rolled forward, trees passing by slowly.
Rahul suddenly leaned forward. "Hey—look over there."
Shakib followed his gaze.
"Those girls," Rahul whispered with a grin. "You like any of them?"
Shakib said "yeah a certified pervert for sure "
Shakib slowly pulled his headphones out and placed them over his ears.
The world softened.
Voices faded.
Laughter became distant.
The engine's noise turned into a low hum.
Music began to play—slow, almost weightless.
He leaned back against the bus seat, one hand holding his phone loosely, the other resting near his bag. Outside the window, the blue sky stretched endlessly, clouds drifting like thoughts he couldn't catch.
Buildings passed by.
Water shimmered in the distance.
The city felt unreal—like a painting moving too smoothly.
Then he started listening to music, slowly vibing with it.
The rhythm calmed his thoughts, and without realizing it, he fell asleep.
Shakib began dreaming.
He was still wearing his headphones.
When he opened his eyes, he saw empty space.
Nothing around him.
"Where is this place…?" he murmured.
"Is this another lucid dream?"
Suddenly, he fell.
He landed gently in a beautiful garden.
Flowers everywhere.
The wind was soft, almost warm.
"What is this place?" Shakib said.
"It's… very beautiful."
But then he looked at his hand.
It was vanishing.
The garden around him also began to fade away.
"What's happening?" he shouted.
"What is going on?!"
He tried to run—
But his body started disappearing.
The world turned dark.
Then—
He woke up.
But he wasn't on the bus.
He was standing near a river.
Cold water flowed beside him.
Shakib looked around, confused.
"…Wasn't I on the bus?"
Shakib thought to himself, What was that… again? Why am I having these dreams?
I don't even play games that much.
Suddenly, someone pushed him.
"Hey—wait a sec! It's very cold!" Shakib shouted.
"Jump in!" Rahul laughed.
"Okay then!" Shakib replied.
Everyone jumped into the water. They were completely soaked.
"Woooo!" Shakib shouted. "Wow, that was great."
"Bro, that was nice," Rahul said.
After that, everyone went to play basketball. Time passed quickly, and soon it was time to return to the bus.
While walking back, Shakib felt uneasy.
"What is happening to me today?" he muttered. "Why does everything look like it's vanishing?"
Suddenly, the bus collapsed. Everything around him started breaking apart.
"What even is this?" Shakib shouted. "I'm not dreaming—this is real! I'm bleeding!"
Then, out of nowhere—
He woke up in his bed.
Rain was falling outside.
Shakib sat up, breathing heavily.
"What is happening at all?" he whispered. "Why am I here?"
Then he woke up again and slowly went outside.
Rain was falling.
Shakib stretched his hand forward and touched the rain.
It vanished.
His eyes widened.
He raised his hand higher.
The rain stopped.
Every single drop froze and disappeared, as if time itself had paused.
Shakib stood there, completely shocked.
"What… what even is this?" he whispered.
"Did I get something… unbreakable?"
He looked at his own hand, trembling.
"…Power?"
Then Shakib whispered, "What is this…? This still feels like a dream. It doesn't even look real."
Suddenly—
He was in a hospital.
Machines beeped softly. The smell of medicine filled the air.
"What is this place…?" Shakib said, confused.
A familiar voice answered.
"You have cancer."
Shakib turned.
It was Rahul.
"You've been asleep for a long time," Rahul said quietly. "I missed you, Shakib. Please… get well soon."
"What…?" Shakib whispered.
Before he could say anything else, Rahul turned and walked away.
"Wait—!"
Shakib woke up again.
He sat up quickly.
"No—wait… I'm okay. See? I'm fine."
But Rahul was gone.
It was afternoon now.
The wind blew gently around him.
Shakib held his head.
"What is really happening?" he said.
"It's like I'm jumping into the future… again and again."
"True."
Shakib froze.
"But you're stuck in a loophole."
He turned around.
It was Imran.
"Yo," Imran said with a small smile. "Long time no see, Shakib."
"What did you say?" Shakib asked. "A… loophole?"
Imran nodded. "Yeah. You can't control your consciousness. Don't you think it's normal to have conversations like this?"
Shakib stared at him.
"It's just like when you met Hypnos," Imran continued. "The god of sleep."
Shakib's eyes widened.
"How do you know that?" he asked. "I didn't tell anyone."
Imran smiled faintly.
"Everything you're seeing right now is just a small part of your dream power," he said.
"You can become a future Dream God."
Shakib swallowed.
"But your future…" Imran's voice lowered.
"It's very dark. You'll end up killing someone close to you."
Shakib froze.
"Who…?" he whispered.
Imran placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You'll see soon," he said. "Time feels normal to you right now."
He paused.
"And one more thing…" Imran said softly.
"I'm very sorry. Very sorry that I couldn't attend your funeral."
Shakib's breath caught.
"What…?"
"Are you really Imran?" he asked. "Or someone else?"
Imran looked at him.
"I am him," he said. "But this world wants something different."
Shakib frowned. "You've changed a lot."
Imran smiled. "Everyone changes with time."
There was a short silence.
"We'll meet again," Shakib said quietly.
"Yeah," Imran replied. "One friend always misses another."
He stepped back.
"Crazy, right?" Imran said lightly.
Then his body began to fade—
half of him turning into light.
"Wait!" Shakib shouted.
But Imran vanished.