"No… I think I'll pass," you say.
"I still want to live. I still want to exist. I still want to be with the people I love."
"I see," the rabbit replies."Then… I'll see you again."
It takes a step back—not to disappear, but to make way.
The city around you freezes, like a paused image. Nothing collapses. No light consumes it. The dream simply… yields.
"But you already know, don't you?" the rabbit continues, its voice calm, without persuasion."Tonight, you can wake up."
It looks at you, steady and unwavering—like it's speaking to someone who has already decided.
"But this dream… won't let you go so easily."
You take a deep breath. Your heartbeat slows—not from fear, but from understanding.
"I'll dream of this place again," you say.
The rabbit nods, as if that was the answer it had been waiting for.
"Every night someone is trapped… every dream that refuses to end—you will return."
You don't ask why it has to be you.You don't ask if you can refuse.
Because you already know.
Tonight, you chose to let the child wake up.
And now… you choose to return to your own life.
The light begins to dim. The city fades—not as a farewell, but as a pause.
"When will we meet again?" you ask.
The rabbit smiles—that same familiar smile.
"When you close your eyes."
All sound fades. The ground beneath you softens, like a familiar bed.
And just before everything disappears, you hear its final words—
not a command, not a request:
"Tomorrow night… don't forget to sleep deeply."
You wake up.
The same room. The same morning. The same life.
Everything feels normal—just like any other day.
The Real World
Soft sunlight filters through your window. Your desk is cluttered with notebooks and a half-finished cup of coffee. Your computer screen is still open—to the mystery novel you've been writing.
You lean back, take a deep breath, and hit save.
"Just for now…" you mutter.
The story you're working on is filled with puzzles and hidden truths. Its protagonist—much like you—is trying to piece together fragments of something larger.
You stare at the screen… but your thoughts drift.
Then you sigh, stand up, and stretch.
"Maybe I should go out for a bit…"
You grab your jacket, turn off the lights, and step out into the world.
The street is quiet. Shops are just beginning to open.
And then—you see him.
The child from your dream.
Standing at the corner, waiting to cross the street.
You smile faintly.
There's no connection. No proof.
And yet… you know.
You look away, heading toward the convenience store. Still, a small warmth lingers in your chest.
That evening, back in your apartment, you put things away, wash up, and lie down.
You stare at the ceiling.
Breathe slowly.
And drift to sleep.
An Ordinary Night…That Might Not Be So Ordinary
You open your eyes—
and find yourself standing in the meadow once more.
The cool wind returns.
So does the feeling.
The white rabbit appears before you, smiling softly.
"You're here," it says. "Another night begins."
You nod.
Before you can speak, it turns and starts walking.
You follow.
The meadow slowly transforms into a small town—wooden buildings, dim lanterns floating gently in the air.
"The dream hasn't started yet," the rabbit says. "Let's find something to do first."
It leads you… to an arcade.
Lights flicker. Buttons click. Screens glow with impossible color.
"This feels like your kind of place," the rabbit grins.
You smile.
And for once—
this dream doesn't feel heavy.
You play together.
Running, jumping, collecting items.
Laughing.
Competing.
Helping.
Like children.
Like friends.
And for a moment… you forget everything else.
"Fun, right?" the rabbit asks after a while.
"This is just the warm-up."
You nod.
"Yeah… it feels like I forgot the real world for a bit."
"Good," it says. "Because after this… we'll need to be ready."
19:00
"This time, I'm coming with you," the rabbit says.
"There will be three of us tonight—you, me… and a child."
Something about tonight feels different.
Lighter.
Warmer.
You leave the dream city together.
Your goal?
A dragon.
"What's the plan?" you ask.
The rabbit pauses.
"…We go find it. Then… we'll figure it out."
The child laughs.
"That's not a plan."
You sigh.
"Good enough."
Through fields. Through forests. Across rivers.
Joking. Complaining. Laughing.
Until—
a mountain rises before you.
Smoke curls into the sky.
A low rumble echoes.
"There," the rabbit whispers. "Our dragon."
But when you see it—
it's not terrifying.
Just… sleepy.
You blink.
"That's it?"
The child throws a snowball.
The dragon lazily breathes fire—melting it mid-air.
No danger.
Just… play.
You laugh.
All of you do.
And suddenly—
this isn't a battle.
It's a game.
A different kind of dream.
Not one of fear.
Not one of escape.
But one of joy.
Eventually, the light fades again.
The dream begins to dissolve.
"It's time," you tell the child gently.
He nods.
"…I want to stay a bit longer."
The rabbit pats him.
"We'll meet again."
You look at the rabbit.
"Thank you… for tonight."
It says nothing—just smiles.
The child takes your hand.
Light begins to pour in.
The world fades.
Until only you and the rabbit remain.
"Goodbye… my friend," you say.
The rabbit nods.
"Goodbye… until the next dream."
You wake up.
Back to your normal life.
Unaware—
that something dark…
is slowly creeping closer.
To be continued…