A Stranger in the Dream
758 Words
Amara stopped trusting sleep.
Because every time she closed her eyes—
Something was waiting.
Morning came, but it didn’t feel like safety.
The black feathers still lay on her bedside table.
Three now.
Each one smaller than the last.
Each one proof that the distance between her world and the other one… was shrinking.
By afternoon, she found herself back at the café with Tunde.
“You’re scaring me,” he said quietly.
Amara looked up. “What?”
“You keep zoning out. Like you’re not really here.”
Her fingers tightened around her cup.
Because he was right.
Part of her wasn’t here.
It was still trapped in that place.
“I’m fine,” she said automatically.
Tunde sighed. “You said that yesterday.”
She didn’t respond.
Because she didn’t know how to explain something that sounded insane.
That night—
She didn’t resist.
She let the dream take her.
The corridor returned.
But it didn’t feel the same.
It felt… aware.
Watching her.
Waiting.
A light flickered at the far end.
Amara stepped forward.
The moment she moved—
The world shifted.
A vast plaza unfolded before her.
Floating structures hung in the air like broken pieces of reality. The sky twisted with unnatural colors, spiraling slowly as if something massive moved behind it.
Amara’s breath caught.
“This place…”
“Is not meant for beginners.”
The voice came from behind her.
Smooth.
Calm.
Dangerous.
She turned—
And saw him.
He stood against a floating railing, completely at ease in a world that made no sense.
Dark hair. Sharp eyes.
Watching her like he already knew everything.
Her heart skipped.
“Who are you?” she asked.
He smiled faintly.
“Someone who found you before they did.”
A chill ran through her.
“They?” she repeated.
His expression darkened slightly.
“You’ve already seen one of them.”
The shadow.
Her pulse quickened.
“What is happening to me?” she demanded. “Why can I come here?”
Instead of answering, he stepped closer.
The air shifted.
“You crossed a line,” he said quietly. “And now… this world knows your name.”
Amara’s breath hitched.
“That’s not possible—”
“It is.”
The ground trembled.
The sky above them flickered.
And then—
The shadows moved.
They poured into the plaza like ink spilling across water.
Fast.
Hungry.
Watching her.
Amara stepped back. “They’re here…”
“I know.”
He didn’t sound afraid.
That scared her more.
The shadows surged forward.
Instinct took over.
Amara tried to run—
But the ground held her in place.
Like the world itself refused to let her escape.
Her chest tightened.
“I can’t move!”
The shadows closed in.
Closer.
Closer—
Suddenly—
Light exploded between them.
A barrier.
Sharp. Blinding.
The shadows slammed against it and recoiled.
Amara gasped.
The stranger stood in front of her now, his hand raised, glowing faintly.
Protecting her.
“Stay behind me,” he said.
Her heart raced.
“Why are you helping me?”
He didn’t look back.
“Because if you die here…”
He paused.
The shadows screamed against the barrier.
“You won’t wake up.”
Fear hit her all at once.
This wasn’t a dream.
Not anymore.
The shadows retreated slowly, dissolving into the air like they were never there.
Silence returned.
But it didn’t feel safe.
Not even close.
Amara swallowed hard. “Who are you?”
This time—
He turned.
Really looked at her.
And for a second—
Something shifted in his eyes.
Recognition.
Or something deeper.
“Eli,” he said.
The name lingered in the air.
“And you,” he added quietly, “are already in more danger than you understand.”
Before she could respond—
The world began to break apart.
The plaza cracked.
The sky tore open.
Everything collapsed into darkness.
Amara jolted awake.
Her chest heaving.
Her body shaking.
The room was silent.
Too silent.
Slowly—
She turned her head.
Her bedside table.
Four feathers now.
Her breath caught.
“They’re multiplying…”
A soft sound came from the corner of her room.
Amara froze.
Slowly—
She looked up.
A shadow stood there.
Not a reflection.
Not a trick of light.
Watching her.
Her voice trembled.
“You’re not supposed to be here…”
The shadow tilted its head.
And for the first time—
It spoke.
“You belong to us now.”
- Writer
