it was all a dream

I didn’t fall asleep. That’s the part that still bothers me. One second I was lying in my bed, my phone glowing beside me, the ceiling fan humming above my head. The next, I was standing barefoot on cold marble floors, the air thick with the scent of rain and something metallic—like blood, but not quite. The sky above me was wrong. Too close. Too dark. Clouds twisted in slow spirals, as if the world itself was thinking. “Luna.” My name echoed. I turned sharply. A boy stood near a shattered fountain, water frozen midair behind him like time had paused just to frame his face. He looked familiar in a way that hurt—like someone I’d loved in another life. “You’re awake,” he said, relief softening his voice. “Good.” “Where am I?” My voice trembled despite myself. He hesitated. “Not where you’re supposed to be.” Before I could press him, footsteps echoed behind me—slow, deliberate. I felt them before I heard them, a chill crawling up my spine. “Well,” a second voice drawled, smooth and amused, “she doesn’t look broken.” I turned. This boy smiled like secrets were currency and he owned them all. His eyes lingered on me with unsettling intensity, as though he could already see every decision I would ever make. “Rowan,” the first boy said sharply. “Eli,” Rowan replied lazily, never taking his eyes off me. “Relax. I like her.” My stomach twisted. “You both keep talking like I’m not here.” Rowan stepped closer. Too close. “Oh, you’re here,” he murmured. “That’s the problem.” The air shifted. The fountain cracked. The frozen water shattered to the ground, crashing like glass. I backed away. “This is a dream. I need to wake up.” Eli’s expression darkened—not angry, but afraid. “You can’t wake up yet,” he said quietly. “Not until you choose.” “Choose what?” I demanded. Rowan smiled wider, something dangerous flickering beneath it. “Which version of this ends.” The sky split open. A scream tore from my throat as the ground collapsed beneath me, darkness swallowing everything. As I fell, a single thought burned through my mind: Dreams don’t trap you. People do.I didn’t hit the ground. That was the second thing that terrified me. I kept falling—through layers of darkness that felt thick, almost liquid—yet there was no impact, no pain to signal the end. Just endless descent, my scream swallowed by the void as though the world itself refused to hear me. Then, abruptly, everything stopped. I gasped and jolted upright. Warm sand pressed beneath my palms. Sunlight flooded my vision so suddenly that I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart pounding wildly against my ribs. For a moment, I could do nothing but breathe—short, panicked breaths—trying to steady myself. When I opened my eyes again, the world had changed. I was on a beach. Golden sand stretched endlessly in both directions, smooth and untouched except for my own shallow handprints. The ocean lay calm before me, waves rolling in gentle, rhythmic motions that felt almost hypnotic. Above, the sky was impossibly blue, dotted with soft white clouds drifting lazily across the horizon. Too perfect. I pushed myself to my feet, brushing sand from my hands and legs. I was still barefoot, still wearing the thin nightdress I’d fallen asleep in—if I had fallen asleep at all. “This isn’t real,” I whispered. The wind brushed past me, warm and salty, lifting strands of my hair. Somewhere in the distance, gulls cried. Everything sounded right. Everything felt right. And that was wrong. “Most people say that,” a familiar voice said behind me. I spun around. Eli stood a few feet away, his shoes sinking slightly into the sand. The tension I hadn’t realized I was holding loosened instantly at the sight of him, relief flooding through me so fast it made my knees weak. “You’re here,” I said. He smiled faintly. “I told you you’d come back.” My relief quickly curdled into anger. “You didn’t tell me anything. You just let me fall.” “I didn’t let you,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t stop it.” “Why?” I demanded. “Why does this keep happening? What is this place?” Eli glanced out at the ocean, his jaw tightening. “It changes. Based on you.” “That’s not an answer.” “It’s the only one I have.” I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the sun. “You said I’m not supposed to be here. So why am I?” He met my gaze then, and something heavy settled in his eyes. “Because you’re stuck.” The word hit harder than I expected. “Stuck?” I repeated. “In a dream?” Eli hesitated. “Yes. And no.” Before I could press him further, laughter drifted across the beach—low and amused. “Oh, don’t look so scared,” Rowan said, emerging from behind a cluster of smooth white rocks. “You’re still breathing. That’s usually a good sign.” My stomach twisted. “You.” He looked different here. Lighter, somehow—his dark jacket gone, sleeves rolled up, hair tousled by the breeze. He looked like he belonged in this place in a way that made my skin prickle. “You threw me,” I snapped. Rowan shrugged. “You let go.” “I didn’t have a choice.” His eyes darkened, something unreadable flickering behind them. “No one ever does.” Eli stepped subtly closer to me, placing himself between Rowan and me. “Enough.” Rowan smirked. “Protective already? Careful, Eli. She might start believing you’re the safe one.” I frowned. “Safe from what?” Both boys went silent. The ocean stilled. The waves froze mid-roll, water hovering unnaturally in the air just as the fountain had before. A heavy pressure settled over the beach, pressing down on my chest until breathing became difficult. Rowan exhaled slowly. “You shouldn’t have asked that yet.” Fear crawled up my spine. “Yet?” Eli turned to me, urgency sharp in his voice. “Luna, listen to me. You need to stay calm. The dream reacts to—” The sand beneath us rippled. I cried out as the ground shifted violently, the smooth beach distorting into uneven waves of earth. The sky darkened, blue bleeding into gray. “I just want to wake up!” I shouted. The pressure vanished instantly. The beach snapped back into place. The waves crashed down, sound rushing back into the world all at once. I staggered, dizzy. Rowan watched me closely, something like fascination etched into his expression. “There it is,” he murmured. “You see? It listens to you.” “That’s impossible,” I whispered. “Not here,” he said. Eli grabbed my shoulders gently, grounding me. “You can’t fight it like that. The more you panic, the worse it gets.” “So what am I supposed to do?” My voice cracked despite my effort to stay strong. “Feel,” Rowan said softly. “Let it happen.” I pulled away from them both. “You’re both insane.” Rowan laughed. “You say that now.” I took a shaky breath, forcing myself to think. “If this is my dream, then I can wake myself up.” I squeezed my eyes shut and focused—on my bedroom, my bed, the hum of the fan. Nothing happened. Panic flared again, sharp and hot. Rowan stepped closer. “You can’t leave by force.” “Why not?” “Because,” he said, lowering his voice, “this place only lets go when it’s finished with you.” Eli’s gaze flicked sharply to him. “Don’t.” Rowan ignored him. “You’re here because you hesitate. Because you stand on the edge of decisions and never jump.” My chest tightened. “You don’t know me.” He smiled slowly. “I know you better than you think.” The sun dipped suddenly toward the horizon, dragging the world into dusk. Shadows stretched long across the sand, curling like fingers around my feet. Eli looked alarmed. “Rowan, stop pushing her.” Rowan’s eyes never left mine. “She needs to understand.” “Understand what?” I whispered. “That this dream isn’t just a place,” he said. “It’s a test.” The first star appeared in the darkening sky. And with it came a terrible certainty settling deep in my bones— Whatever this dream wanted from me, it wasn’t going to let me leave until it took it.