ECHOS OF THE PAST

11. Dream or Reality?

I wasn't sure if I was awake. But I wasn't in the forest anymore.

My chest still heaved with the remnants of fear, my pulse racing, but those monstrous flames and grotesque figures were gone. It was replaced by the smothering stillness of a dimly lit room.

I stood in the middle of my room, and yet it felt unfamiliar. The window near the corner was partially boarded up, light slipping through in thin, jagged slices. My pulse quickened.

I was in Mona's old apartment, watching the crack on the wall. The tall, hooded figure, with its skeletal hands and claws, was coming for me, but now... I blinked, rubbing my temples, struggling to push away the disorienting fog in my mind. My head spun, trying to make sense of it.

The vision of the ritual—the forest, the fire—lingered in my memory like a fading nightmare. But as I glanced around the room, something was wrong.

The walls seemed to breathe, the space around me pulsating like it was alive, waiting. A low hum settled in my bones, making my skin crawl. I looked down at my watch, and my heart sank—It was 1:00 PM. How could time slip like that? Had I blacked out? My mind raced with questions, but no answers surfaced, only a growing dread.

How did I get here? Was it real? Or was I still dreaming?

As I stepped out of my room, the apartment felt different. The familiar surroundings of my apartment were there—at least, at first glance. The couch, the coffee table, the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. But something wasn't right. What was happening?

As I walked toward the kitchen, I noticed something that stopped me dead in my tracks.

I took a shaky step forward, and that's when I heard it. The coffee table... it wasn't where it should be.

It had been shifted, just slightly. Nothing drastic, but enough that it stood out. I could have sworn I had left a book on the corner of the table earlier, but now it was in the center, open to a random page. A cup of tea was there, but the tea had gone cold, a ring of condensation staining the surface beneath it. I didn't remember leaving it there.

A chill prickled the back of my neck. I turned to the window in the hall, half-expecting to see something—someone—outside, watching. But there was nothing, just the same gray cloudy sky and the quiet street below. I shook my head, trying to snap myself out of it. You're just imagining things, I told myself. But it didn't feel that simple.

I moved toward the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face to shake the growing unease. My reflection stared back at me, hollow-eyed and pale, like I hadn't slept in days. As I leaned closer to the mirror, something flickered in the corner of my vision.

Behind me, just beyond the doorway—a shadow.

I spun around, heart hammering in my chest, but the hallway was empty. Just the silent apartment. I let out a shaky breath, leaning against the sink for support. What is happening to me?

My mind was racing, but no matter how I tried to rationalize it, I couldn't shake the sensation that something had been there. Something had... touched my world while I wasn't looking. The vision, the hours lost, the subtle changes around the apartment—everything felt too connected, too deliberate.

I forced myself to focus. There had to be a logical explanation. Maybe I did come home and had just dozed off for longer than I thought. Maybe I had moved the coffee table myself in a haze of exhaustion. But that didn't explain the creeping dread in my chest or the sense that I wasn't alone.

I grabbed my phone again, checking the time. I needed to stay on track—the meeting with Mr. Thompson. That was the next step, the only step I could control right now. Maybe he had answers or at least some connection to the unsettling events happening around me.