My eyes snapped open. Chest rising and falling like I’d sprinted a mile. Breath? A mess. But not fear. Not even close. It was… heavier. Thicker. Like my lungs were filled with static. That orange streetlamp glow—you know the one, the kind that makes everything look like a cheap horror flick—was bleeding through the curtains. Shadows clawed at the walls. I dragged a hand down my face. What even was that dream?

Past. Yeah, the dream was about my past. But not the usual scrambled nonsense. This? Felt real. Too real. The cracked sidewalk under my feet. The city’s heartbeat—honks, laughter, the screech of a distant train. And then… her. Like I’d tripped into some alternate dimension. Close enough to taste, but a million miles away.

Her name? No clue. But her face—god, her face. Straight hair, deep brown like roasted coffee. A smile that could’ve powered the whole damn city. And this… energy. Like she was the sun and everything else just orbited around her. Sounds crazy, right? But the second I saw her, it hit me. This… thing. Like I’d been waiting my whole life for a stranger.

How? How could someone I’d never met feel like… home? She had this glow. Not literal, but… you know when someone walks into a room and the air changes? That.

But here’s the kicker: The dream didn’t end. It… lingered. Like a song stuck in your head. And now? This itch in my chest. Like the world tilted half a degree when I wasn’t looking.

I sucked in a breath-deep, shaky, like my lungs forgot how to work. Get a grip, I told myself. It's just a freaking dream. But that nagging thought wouldn't quit: What if it wasn't?

I pushed myself up, slow-mo, like my bones were made of lead. My sheets felt the same-scratchy, familiar. But the room... off. Not wrong, just... not right. Like when someone rearranges your stuff but puts it back almost the same. I scanned the room: desk buried under chaos, backpack dead in the corner, shadows from the streetlamp stretching across the ceiling like creepy fingers. Everything normal. So why did my skin prickle?

I shook my head hard, like I could physically toss the weirdness out. You're just tired, I lied to myself. But the dream? No way. It clung like cheap cologne, sharp and impossible to ignore.

My hand shot out for my phone. Unlocked. Date: same as yesterday. Duh. What did you think? Time travel? I almost laughed, but the laugh died in my throat. The dream... it wasn't fading. It buzzed in my skull, loud and stubborn.

I flopped back down, staring at the ceiling cracks I'd memorized months ago. By morning, I promised myself, this'll be a funny story. "Hey, guess who hallucinated a girl from another dimension?" Yeah. Maybe.

I squeezed my eyes shut, weirdly hoping the dream would drag me under again.

But deep down, an idea started to crawl into my brain. What if I dreamed again? Same place? Same girl?

And the kicker -what if I tried to... y'know, change something?

That night, sleep came in fits and starts. No repeat of the crazy-vivid dream, but every time I blinked, flashes of that dream kept barging in. The street. Warm wind slapping my face. That girl's smile. And this weird... shift, like something in my life had been nudged sideways while I wasn't looking.

But wait-what exactly was the dream?

It wasn't some random mess of weird images. I remembered it too clearly. I'd been there. In the past. Saw myself younger-13, maybe 14-walking through my old neighborhood. Backpack hanging off one shoulder, earbuds in (though the music sounded muffled, like it was underwater). The afternoon sun painted everything gold, and a cool breeze carried the smell of... bread? Yeah, like the bakery two blocks over. Just a normal day.

Until I saw her.

She was on a park bench, legs swinging like a kid on a sugar high. A book lay open in her lap, but she wasn’t reading. Wind messed with her hair, tossing it sideways, and when she looked up—bam. Our eyes locked.

Time froze. Or maybe I forgot to breathe. Then—her smile. Slow. Quiet. Like dawn breaking.

Didn’t know her. Had no clue who she was. No memory of her from back then—not from school, not from the neighborhood, nowhere. But this… this warmth hit me. Weird, heavy nostalgia, like I’d swallowed a sunbeam.

Like I should know her. Like her face was scribbled in the margins of my brain somewhere, in a chapter I’d skipped.

— What’re you doing all alone — She tilted her head, voice playful, like she’d caught me stealing cookies.

I blanked. Dumb question, but my tongue turned to cement. Felt like I was twelve again, trying to talk to my crush without tripping over my shoes.

— Just… walking — I mumbled, hands shoved deep in my pockets

She laughed—soft, like wind chimes—and snapped her book shut. — Sit. I hate talking to air..

I sat.

We talked about nothing. School. Dumb future dreams (“I wanna own a llama farm”—her, dead serious). How Mondays should be illegal. How the corner store were basically cracked. Easy. No rush. Like the world had hit pause just for us.

But something itched under my skin. Her laugh, the way she twirled her hair… familiar. Like I’d seen it in a movie I couldn’t remember.

At some point, I pulled a black pen from my pocket. Flipped it between my fingers—click, click, click. Nervous habit. She grabbed it, eyes glittering like she’d just found a secret, and scribbled something on my palm.

Don’t remember what it said. Just remember grinning like an idiot.

Then— I blinked and—poof. Everything went fuzzy.

I woke up with that same weird ache in my chest. Like the dream had claws.

But it wasn’t until I saw the pen on my desk that my brain short-circuited.

Exactly the same Pen like in my dream.

I stared at it, cold creeping up my spine. How?

Wasn’t magic. Could’ve been a coincidence. Just one of those details your brain digs up from the basement of your mind, right? Makes dreams feel legit after the fact.

But still… Couldn’t shake the feeling. Like the air was thicker. Like the room had tilted half a degree when I wasn’t looking.

I stood up. Walked to the desk. Grabbed the pen. Twirled it slowly—same rhythm as in the dream. The déjà vu hit so hard my teeth hurt.

Told myself it was dumb. That my brain was gaslighting me. That a freaking pen proved nothing. Let out a sigh that sounded too loud and dropped it.

Decided to crash. Had class at o’clock, and showing up with a head full of conspiracy theories wasn’t on the agenda. Flopped back onto the bed. Squeezed my eyes shut. Forced myself to breathe.

But right before sleep dragged me under, a thought flickered:

If it wasn’t just a dream…

Then what the hell was it?

The day dragged on, normal on the surface. But this… static in my chest wouldn’t quit. Classes blurred into background noise. My brain? Stuck on replay—her face, the dream, the way reality had glitched.

Her name? Still a blank. But her face… sharp. Too sharp. Not like those foggy dream-people who vanish by breakfast. I knew her. But also… didn’t. My adult self had never met her, but in that dream? Felt like she’d been carved into my DNA.

Walking home, the itch under my skin turned urgent. Tonight. I’d dream again. Had to.

Dinner? Scarfed down. Scrolled my phone—meh. Bed? Early. No clue if you could boss dreams around, but hell, I’d try.

Sleep slapped me fast. When I blinked awake, my room was gone. Golden-hour light washed over a street I knew—but cleaner, quieter. My spine prickled. Past. Again.

Looked down. Smaller hands. Weird clothes. Caught my reflection in a window—thirteen. Not a dream. I was here.

A rustle behind me. Turned. Her. Smile like a supernova, energy crackling off her. My heart was hammered.

— There you are! — She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

This time? No chickening out. I stepped closer, eyes glued. Her hair fluttered in the breeze, eyes warm enough to melt glaciers. Something in my gut twisted—not fear. Recognition. Muscle memory. Before I could overthink, my hand reached out, brushing hers.

She didn’t flinch. Just laced her fingers with mine, easy as breathing. My heart did a backflip. None of this made sense, but my body? All-in.

— You’re spacey today, — she teased, tilting her head. — What’s up there? —

My brain? A tornado. But I managed: “Just… you. How you glow.”

She laughed—a sound that buzzed in my ribs.

— I’m always happy when we’re together, — she said, no hesitation.

The words hit me like a sucker punch. Something in her voice—that tone—sent a shiver of half-memories rattling loose. Flickers of kid laughter. Pinkie promises under star-soaked skies. I couldn’t grab them, not fully, but they pulsed just out of reach, a bruise on my brain.

Didn’t overthink it. Just hugged her. No agenda, just… needed to. To see if she’d dissolve into smoke. My adult self was shook—how natural it felt. Fit like we’d done this a thousand times.

She didn’t speak. Just hugged back, arms tight enough to crush doubt. For a heartbeat, it was sanctuary. An anchor in a storm of what-the-hell-is-happening. I shut my eyes. Let the chaos fade.

Here, now, nothing else mattered.

We stayed like that—seconds? Hours?—until she pulled back, soft but firm. Her smile was a blade wrapped in velvet.

— C’mon. Got something to show you — she said, grabbing my hand and dragging me down the street.

We walked as the sun bled orange across the sky. Every step cranked the déjà vu higher. I knew these houses—the cracked blue door, the rosebush gone wild. My adult brain screamed impossible, but my bones? They remembered.

— Where’re we going? — I asked, curiosity leaking through.

— Our spot, — she said, smile sharp enough to cut glass.

The way she said it—like it was gospel—made my ribs squeeze. Whatever waited there? It’d flip my world. And part of me… part of me already knew.

We kept walking, the sun a sucker-punch orange on the horizon. Her hand stayed locked with mine. My adult brain screamed bullshit, but my heart? All in.

The girl—this stranger who knew me better than my therapist—marched forward like she owned the street. I stole glances, memorizing her: the smirk, the hair dancing in the wind, the calm that clung to her like perfume. She smelled like nostalgia, like the ghost of a memory I couldn’t claw back.

Then—boom—the thought hit. Ice pick to the ribs.

If I mess with the past here… does my present just… poof?

A flash: high school. Her. The messy, laugh-so-you-cry love that shaped me. The fights. The silences. The way she left without looking back. Not just a person—a era.

If I tweak one thread… do we never happen?

My gut twisted. No. Can’t be that easy. Just a dream, right? A hyper-vivid brain glitch. Nothing more.

But deep down, a voice hissed it wasn’t that simple.

— You okay? — she asked, stopping dead to face me.

I blinked, snapping back into the dream. Her face was calm, but her eyes? Sharp. Like she could smell fear.

— Yeah. Just… thinking, — I lied, smile tighter than a guitar string.

She stared me down—seconds stretched into years—then shrugged and kept walking.

Minutes later, we hit a park. Not just any park—mine. The one from kid summers. Cleaner, greener, no rusty slides or graffiti. But the same bones. Same dirt I’d scraped my knees on.

She flopped onto a swing, kicking off slow. Back and forth, back and forth.

— This is our spot, — she said, voice soaked in nostalgia.

Our spot. The words punched air from my lungs.

My heart drummed. I clawed through memories—nothing. Just static. A feeling buried so deep it hurt to dig.

— We always come here, — she said, kicking the swing higher. — Even when you forget…— she shot me a smirk sharp enough to draw blood — …but it’s fine. I’ll always remind you.

A chill spider-walked down my spine. Forget? Who even was she? How’d she know me better than my own shadow?

I dropped onto the swing next to hers. The night breeze carried a smell I almost recognized—like burnt sugar and old library books. It wrapped around my lungs, warm and suffocating.

— Maybe… I just need help remembering, — I mumbled, words slipping out before I could cage them.

Her grin went nuclear. She grabbed my hand. The touch buzzed under my skin—not just skin-on-skin. Like our hands were puzzle pieces finally clicked into place.

— Then let’s start from the beginning, — she said, eyes glittering with secrets.

And just like that—I knew. Game over. No going back.

I didn’t answer. Something in her stare… in the way she said it like it was fact… made my gut twist. How much had I buried? And how much was about to claw its way back?