The Dream between Us

The voice found me

Mira found me standing in the kitchen, staring at the kettle like I had forgotten what it was. She paused in the doorway, her backpack sliding off her shoulder.

“ You look like you fought a demon," she said, half joking, half… not.

I forced a smile. “Just tired.”

But the way her eyes narrowed told me she wasn't buying it.

Mira walked closer, her brows pulling together as she studied my face. “How was your first day in college?”

I opened my mouth and closed it again. I wasn't sure if I should tell her I only attended my first lecture or just keep it to myself. I decided to do the latter.

“School was fine, We had our first lectures and did our registration already.”

Mira didn't look convinced. She leaned a hip against the counter, arm crossing slowly. “Mm-hmm,” she said, eyes still fixed on me. “And you…what? Came home and decided to melt into the floor?”

I forced a small laugh. “Just tired, Mira. It was a long morning.”

Her gaze drifted over me… my damp hair, the way I kept shifting my weight, the tremor in my fingers I was trying to hide.

“You know,” she said quietly, "you're a terrible liar when you're stressed.”

I stiffened. “Im not lying.”

Mira’s expression softened, but only a little. She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Elara… something’s off. I can feel it. You look like you saw something. Or did anyone bully you at school?”

“Bully? Me?I laughed so hard. You know that's not possible.

Mira lifted a brow, unimpressed by my attempt at humor. “Yes , you. You look like someone who either got chased, threatened, or haunted.” She paused. “And knowing you… probably the last one.”

I rolled my eyes, but the smile I tried to hold wavered. “No one bullied me, Mira. I promise.”

She studied me again, slower this time, like she was peeling back layers. “Then what happened? Because you didn't just get tired. You look… shaken.”

“ Are you ready for dinner or do you still want to play detective Mira a little longer?”, I cut in.

Mira blinked, taken aback for a second, but she recovered quickly… too quickly. “Deflecting. Classic Elara.”

I sighed. “ I’m not deflecting. I just don't want to talk about… whatever you think happened.”

“Which means something did happen,” she replied, crossing her arms.

I groaned. “Can we drop it?”

“No,” she said simply. “Not when you look like you wrestled with your own shadow and lost.”

A laugh escaped me… short, tired. “I’m fine, Mira.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” She stepped closer, her voice softening. “I’m not trying to pry. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Guilt twisted in my chest, but before I could respond, the kettle clicked loudly behind us, breaking the moment.

Mira reached past me to switch it off. “Let's eat first,” she said. “After that, if you want to talk, talk. If you dont… I’ll let it go.”

“ Well nothing happened so nothing to share, my dear sister.” I said, hugging her from behind. Honestly, I am too confused to even share any details and I really don't want Mira worrying unnecessarily.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't fight the small smile pulling at her lips. ‘You're impossible,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“I know,” I said lightly, still hugging her. But inside, the lie pressed against my ribs.

Mira reached up and patted my hands where they rested around her waist. “ Come on. Sit. I’ll dish the food before you burn water or something.”

I let go and moved to the dining table, grateful for the shift in focus. The familiar clatter of plates, the soft hum of the fridge, the faint aroma of the food she’s dishing. Not corridors. Not shadows.. Not an ancient voice calling my name…

Mira set two plates down and sat across from me, studying me even as she pretended not to. I stabbed at my food, keeping my gaze low.

“ You know,” she said casually, “telling me the truth won't make you explode.”

“ I did tell you the truth,” I insisted without looking up.

“Mm-hmmm,” she hummed skeptically, taking a bite.

Silence settled between us for a moment. Not tense… just heavy. Like a secret perched on the edge of the table.

I focused on chewing, swallowing, and breathing. One normal thing at a time.

Mira didn't push again. She never pushed too hard. That was her way. She waited until I unraveled on my own, then picked up the pieces without asking why they fell.

And tonight.. I wasn't ready to unravel.

After a few minutes, she glanced at me again. “ You know I’ve got your back, right?

I finally met her eyes. “ Yeah. I know.”

What I didn't say was:

I’m not sure anyone can help with whatever this is.

Not even you, Mira.

After dinner, I slipped quietly back into my room, Mira already busy in her corner with her laptop. The room smelled faintly of the jasmine candle I’d lit earlier, a small comfort against the lingering unease from earlier.

I dropped my bag by the desk and moved to my dresser. Luca’s call came in while I applied my night skincare.

I dropped my wipes and swiped to answer.

“ Hey Luca,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Elara… you okay? I just wanted to check in,” his voice came, calm but carrying that familiar concern that always made my chest tighten.

“I…I’m fine,” I lied softly, glancing toward the stack of books on the shelf across me. “Just tired from today.”

There was a pause from the other end. “Alright… but if anything happens, or if you remember anything weird, you call me. Don't push yourself.”

“I will, I whispered. Something about hearing his voice made the strange unease from earlier feel… lighter, just a little.

We ended the call, and I set the phone aside. My fingers itched to write down everything from the dream, the pull… but I resisted. Not yet.

Instead, I sank into my bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of a thousand unanswered questions pressing down.

As I lay back on my bed, my eyes caught a faint shimmer on the corner of my dresser, near the stack of notebooks I hadn't touched in weeks, talking about a stellar student. At first I thought it was a reflection of the jasmine candle, but the light seemed… deliberate. Almost like it was pulsing gently, drawing my attention.

I sat up, leaning closer. There, half-hidden under a loose page from my history notes, was a small, folded piece of parchment I didn't remember putting there. The edges were worn, the paper faintly warm under my fingertips, as if it had waited for me.

Unfolding it carefully, I froze. Written in elegant, looping script were words I didn't recognise but yet somehow understand. The Dream God watches…even when you don't see him.

My heart stuttered. The Dream God… The words repeated in my mind like a distant echo. I glanced around my room, half-expecting someone to appear, but the shadows only stretched longer in the dim candlelight.

A chill ran down my spine. Was this a prank? A trick of my imagination after all the dreams? I traced the letters with my fingertips, each curve sending a strange warmth through me. Somehow, it felt alive, like the parchment itself pulsed with a quiet energy.

I sank back onto my bed, clutching the note, my thoughts spiraling. The Dream God…watches…

And then, as if the parchment had unlocked something, my vision blurred. The room faded, the walls dissolving into a silvery mist. I was no longer in my bedroom, but standing on a narrow stone bridge, suspended over an endless void. The air was thick with the scent of rain and something else… something electric.

A voice whispered again, low and velvety, echoing around me:

“Elara…”

I spun, trying to find its source. A figure emerged from the mist… tall, imposing, yet impossibly graceful. The features were obscured by a soft, silvery light.

“Who… are you?” My voice trembled, barely a whisper.

The figure stepped closer, held my hands and started running. We ran into a big ancient house, the exact one from the other dream. All these while I couldn't see his face, only his back was illuminated by a pale, silvery light that seemed to flow around him, making him both more and less real at the same time. The warmth of his touch lingered in my hands as we moved, each step echoing in the vast emptiness of the house.

The air smelled faintly of rain and something sweet I couldn't name. My heart raced, a delicious tension coiling in my chest, drawing me closer to him even though I didn't know why.

He stopped at the top of a grand staircase, and though I still couldn't see his face, I felt the weight of his gaze… intense, intimate, and pulling me in. My breath caught as he leaned just me in. my breath caught as he leaned just slightly closer, his presence brushing against mine in a way that made the air itself thrum.

A whisper, low and tantalizing, brushed against my ear: “Elara…”

I shivered, caught between fear and something entirely new… something electric that made my pulse thunder in my veins. The room seemed to spin, and I felt as though we were the only two beings in the world, moving together in silent harmony, a rhythm I couldn't name but somehow recognised.

Then, just as quickly, he vanished. The air went still. The soft light dimmed. My hands tingled where his hand touched mine, and the warmth in my chest lingered, leaving me trembling and breathless on the floor of a dream I couldn't hold onto.

I woke with a start, the sheets twisted around me, my skin still tingling with the ghost of his touch. My room was ordinary again…the desk, the window, the faint hum of the city… but the ache, the pull, the yearning… it remained.

I lay there for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to wrest the memory of the dream away. But the warmth, the brush of his hands, the intensity of his presence… they clung stubbornly to my skin, to my chest, to my pulse.

Slowly, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and pulled the blanket around my shoulders. My phone lay on the dresser, silent. No messages. No calls. Only the quiet hum of my room and the faint scent of jasmine.

Mira’s voice drifted from the other room. I considered telling about the dream, the house, but the words stuck, tangled in the ache of something I couldn't explain.

Instead , I whispered to myself, “It’s just a dream. Just a dream.”

But deep down, I knew it wasn't, and something in me craved to go back. I couldn't stop myself from wanting to follow.

I turned off the bedside lamp and let the darkness take me, curling under the covers, my heart still thrumming with echoes of a touch I didn't fully understand.

Tomorrow, I promised myself, I’d focus on ordinary things. Lectures, notes, Luca, Mira, anything to anchor me back.

But tonight the voice had found me again.

And I didn't want him to go.