The man who lives in my dreams

The first thing I learned about dreams was that they have rules. The second thing I learned was that some dreams remember you. This one had been waiting for me. I stood barefoot in the middle of a street that did not exist. Rain fell upward. Not down. Every silver drop lifted from the pavement and disappeared into a black sky filled with stars that were far too close. Buildings surrounded me on both sides, impossibly tall and narrow, their windows glowing with a pale blue light. There were no cars. No people. No sound except the faint ringing of something hidden beneath the city. I looked down at my hands. They were mine. I knew they were mine. But there was blood underneath my fingernails. Again. “You're late.” The voice came from behind me. My stomach tightened. I didn't turn around. I already knew who it was. “You're early,” I replied. A quiet laugh. “You always say that.” “And you always think you're funny.” “I am funny.” “You're unbearable.” “Yet you keep coming back.” I finally turned. He stood beneath a broken streetlamp about twenty feet away. Lucian. I didn't know his last name. I didn't know where he lived. I didn't know his age. I didn't know whether Lucian was even his real name. I only knew that I'd been dreaming about him for three years. He was tall, dressed in a black coat that looked completely dry despite the rain floating around him. His dark hair was damp at the edges, falling slightly across his forehead. And his eyes— His eyes were the strangest thing about him. They weren't brown. They weren't black. They were silver. The first time I'd seen him, I'd thought they were beautiful. Then he'd tried to kill me. I learned quickly not to trust beautiful things. “You shouldn't be here,” he said. I folded my arms. “It's my dream.” His expression changed. Only slightly. But I noticed. “It isn't.” The ringing beneath the city suddenly stopped. Silence swallowed everything. I looked around. “What?” Lucian took one step toward me. Then another. His expression was no longer teasing. “Wake up, Naya.” My heart began to pound. “How do you know my name?” He stopped. For a moment, neither of us moved. Then he whispered something that made the entire city tremble. “Because you told me.” A crack appeared across the pavement between us. I stepped backward. “What does that mean?” Lucian looked frightened. I'd never seen him frightened before. “Run.” The buildings began collapsing. I screamed. Lucian reached for me. I reached for him. Our fingers touched. And suddenly— I remembered. His hand holding mine. His voice saying my name. A room filled with fire. My own hands covered in blood. Lucian crying. And a woman screaming: “You promised you would forget her!” I gasped. The memory vanished. The city returned. Lucian was staring at me. “What did you see?” I couldn't answer. “Tell me.” “I don't know.” “You remembered something.” “I said I don't know!” His jaw tightened. Then the street beneath us split apart. Lucian grabbed my wrist. “Wake up!” I tried. I couldn't. “Wake up, Naya!” “I'm trying!” The crack widened. Buildings fell into darkness. Lucian pulled me toward him. For the first time in three years, he looked genuinely terrified. “Whatever happens,” he said, “don't let them find you.” “Who?” He opened his mouth. A gunshot echoed through the city. Lucian jerked backward. A dark stain spread across his chest. “No.” He looked at me. I caught him before he fell. “Lucian!” His weight crashed against me. His silver eyes remained fixed on mine. And then he whispered the strangest thing. “I'm sorry I killed you.” I froze. “What?” His eyes closed. The city disappeared. And I woke up screaming. --- I sat upright in bed. My lungs burned. For several seconds, I didn't know where I was. Then the familiar ceiling of my bedroom came into focus. White paint. A small crack above the light fixture. The faded glow of morning coming through the curtains. My room. My world. I pressed a hand against my chest. My heart was beating so hard it hurt. “It was just a dream.” I said the words aloud because I needed to hear them. Just a dream. Except something was wrong. My right hand felt wet. I slowly looked down. There was blood on my palm. I stopped breathing. No. No, no, no. I pulled back the blanket. A thin line of blood ran from my wrist toward my elbow. I stared at it. Then I looked around my bedroom. Nothing. No broken window. No knife. No wound. Just blood. My phone buzzed on the bedside table. I jumped. A message. Unknown number. My fingers trembled as I picked it up. There was only one sentence. You weren't supposed to remember him yet. I stared at the screen. Then another message appeared. Whatever you do, don't dream tonight. I read it three times. A cold feeling crawled down my spine. Because there was one thing the sender didn't know. I had never been able to control when I dreamed about Lucian. And tonight... I was almost certain he was going to come back.