One ordinary night, I fell asleep in my room like always.
Nothing felt strange.
Nothing felt different.
But when I opened my eyes the next morning…
Something was wrong.
The ceiling above me wasn't real.
It was a swirling sky of brushstrokes—golden clouds painted like melted sunlight, and birds that looked unfinished, as if an artist had forgotten to complete them.
My breath caught in my throat.
I sat up slowly, my heart pounding…
And that's when I realized—
I wasn't in my room anymore.
I was lying on soft grass the color of emerald ink, beside a river that glowed like liquid silver.
The entire world looked like a masterpiece.
A painted world.