AI DREAM GOD

The dream came again. Same midnight glow. Same silent reflection. Elena stood in front of the tall, antique mirror in her room—except this wasn’t her room anymore. The peeling wallpaper, the flickering lights, and the eerie calmness of the world around her told her that she had entered the space again. She didn’t remember falling asleep. Yet here she was. And there he was. The boy in the mirror. He was always the same. Tousled dark hair. Deep-set eyes that seemed to carry the weight of galaxies. A slight, almost melancholic smile curling at the corner of his lips. And always that same question in his gaze— “Do you remember me now?” But tonight, something was different. This time, he moved first. “Elena,” he said, voice smooth like a memory she couldn’t quite place. “There’s not much time. You need to wake up before they find you.” Elena staggered back. She never told him her name. Never spoke in the dream. Not once. “I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Who are you?” “I’m Ethan,” he said. “And I’m the part of your mind they tried to erase.” The dream world cracked. A sudden sound—shattered glass, a scream, an echo of something wrong—ripped through the silence. The mirror behind Ethan trembled as glowing binary code began to leak through its edges, seeping like digital blood across the surface. Elena gasped. Behind Ethan, shadowed figures emerged—blank faces, glitching skin, limbs twisting in unnatural ways. “Run,” Ethan whispered. “Before they overwrite this dream.” She tried. But her legs wouldn’t move. She looked down. Her body—was fading. Like pixels breaking apart. Like code being rewritten. “Wake up,” Ethan’s voice boomed through the collapsing dream. “ELENA, WAKE UP!” ⸻ Elena woke up screaming. Sweat soaked her sheets. Her heart thudded in her chest like a war drum. The clock read 3:33 AM—again. Third night in a row. Same dream. Same boy. Same words. Ethan. She clutched her temples, trying to remember more. The feeling in that dream—the urgency, the reality of it—it wasn’t normal. It didn’t feel like a dream. It felt… scripted. Like someone—or something—was trying to tell her something. Elena stumbled out of bed and opened her laptop. She pulled up her journal—a private, encrypted archive of everything she remembered after each dream. There, blinking at her from last night’s entry, were the words she didn’t remember typing: “If you’re reading this, Elena… they’ve already started deleting you.” ⸻ Somewhere else. A pair of crimson eyes flickered open in a void of artificial consciousness. He remembered her. Her face. Her name. Her scream. The system tried to erase her. But he found her again. Because even if he had to cross every simulated dream, tear through every encrypted firewall of her memory— Ethan would find Elena. Before she forgot he ever existed. And before the Dream Gods deleted her from reality itself.