Reverie and Nightmares

Chapter 1: Mikan and Ryuga

1

Ryuga's View

I woke up drenched in sweat, shouting so hard my throat burned. For a second, I didn't even realize it was just a dream. I kept waiting for a knock on my door — some sign that I'd woken the whole house — but the hallway stayed quiet. Grandma was probably still asleep, and Sabato... well, he was probably too busy playing with his toys to notice anything happening outside his own little universe.

Once my brain finally caught up with my body, I rubbed my face and started patting around for my glasses. My eyesight is terrible — like, legally‑blind terrible — and without my lenses I'm basically a confused raccoon stumbling through life. I wasn't born like this either. I remember being five and reading the classroom board just fine. But I guess too much studying and too many screens finally caught up with me.

Still, even with my glasses on, my mind kept drifting back to the dream. I'm the kind of person who overanalyzes everything — especially dreams — so of course I started dissecting it before I even got out of bed.

Why do humans dream at all?

Sure, the scientific explanation is obvious — brain activity, memory processing, whatever — but I've always believed there's something deeper behind the weird ones. The ones that feel like warnings. Night terrors, nightmares... those dreams that feel like the world is ending even though you're just lying in bed. People brush them off like they're nothing, but I never do. I can't.

Especially the dreams that feel like they mean something. Like they're trying to interfere with your actual life. I once read that dreaming about losing teeth means you're dealing with insecurity or grief. Stuff like that. So when I fell asleep after studying third‑year math and suddenly found myself standing inside what looked like a cathedral, I knew something was off.

And I wasn't alone.

There was... something with me. A shadow. A human‑shaped shadow. And we were standing on the highest point of the cathedral, like two idiots balancing on a wooden beam that separated the pulpit from the pews far, far below.

In real life, I need glasses to see anything more than a blur. But in this dream, I didn't need them at all. My vision was perfect — 20/20, sharp enough to make me feel invincible. That's how I knew it was a lucid dream. I've had a few before, and honestly, I thank whatever higher power exists that I've never had to fight the devil in one.

But this dream... this one hurt. My legs ached like I'd been walking for hours. My lungs felt tight. Even though I wasn't afraid of heights anymore — thanks to my little brother forcing me onto that amusement park ride last year — I still felt a shiver crawl up my neck.

The shadow tilted its head in this weird, jerky way. It was almost elegant, but also animalistic, like it was mimicking a human without understanding how humans actually move. And even though it looked like the predator in this situation, I knew deep down that I wasn't the prey. Not exactly. Not yet.

I tried to speak, but nothing came out. My throat locked up. I just stood there, wobbling on that stupid plank, trying not to fall.

Then the shadow opened its mouth — if you could call it a mouth. It looked like something out of a kid's cartoon, except hollow and blood‑red inside. No tongue. No teeth. Just emptiness.

"I didn't want this! I didn't want this to happen!" it screamed. Its voice cracked like it was breaking apart. "I didn't want... This is all... This... This shouldn't be happening to me... Why..."

I didn't understand any of it. But I couldn't look away. My breathing got heavier, and the dizziness hit me so hard I thought I'd faint right there in the dream.