I didn't know what to do.
In panic, I threw the card away.
I didn't want to touch it anymore. I didn't want it near me.
My mind was spiraling.
Why did it feel so real?
Why was the card in my hand when I woke up?
Why did I have the same card in my dream and in reality?
And that man-
why did he call my name?
I had never seen him before. Not in my life. Not in any memory. Yet he spoke my name with certainty, as if he had always known me.
The most disturbing part was the card itself.
My name had changed.
It no longer said just "Cristina."
It now read: Welcome, Cristina.
Welcome to what?
I stood there, breathing unevenly, my thoughts crashing into one another. Every explanation felt impossible. Coincidence made no sense anymore. Logic refused to hold.
I picked the card up again.
I hated myself for it-but I still had it.
Questions flooded my mind, too many to count. I didn't know whether to destroy it, hide it, or keep it close. I didn't know if I was afraid of the card... or afraid of what might happen if I let it go.
What scared me most was not the dream.
It was the feeling that something had already decided my place.
Lost in thought, I got out of bed and rushed into the hall. My mind was racing faster than my body. I opened my laptop immediately, searching for answers—solutions to questions no one could possibly explain.
Nothing helped.
Every explanation felt empty. Every theory contradicted the next. I thought about telling someone, but who would believe me? The story itself sounded unreal, even to me.
The stress grew heavier.
I searched deeper. Page after page. Forums, articles, anonymous posts. Most of them spoke about curses—objects that attach themselves, things that should be thrown away, burned, buried, or ignored. Some suggested surrendering and "going with the flow." That idea felt insane. Whoever wrote that must have been insane.
One option remained.
Burn it.
Even then, doubt crept in. What if it wouldn't burn? What if it was something demonic—something that refused to be destroyed? The thought terrified me. I remembered reading that such things never leave their owner.
Still shaking, I went back to my room and picked up the card.
I didn't look at it.
I closed my eyes.
I already believed I knew what would happen.
I lit the flame.
When I finally opened my eyes, the card was burning—easily. Quietly. Like ordinary paper. The edges curled, the ink disappeared, and within moments, it was gone.
Ash.