The Imaginary One

D11TH

D E A T H / one

Eunji forbade herself to forget the last thing she remembered from her dream the night before. She even listed down every detail she remembered on her phone, and tried hard to remember the things she might have forgotten.

Fire at school.

Taxi.

Garden.

Roses.

Close breathing.

Curly hair.

Frowning at her phone, she thought long and hard about what else could be missing. She had her eyes closed tight to visualize the dream she had the other night. Everything was a blur now, she could only remember how she felt.

She threw herself on the bed, tossing her phone away in frustration.

Eunji couldn't forget how close their faces were; his breath touching her skin. It felt too real, the simple sensation felt so vivid, yet it was only a dream. It was hard to forget. He saved her from the building that was on fire.

It wasn't the first time he saved her.

It wasn't the first time they met.

She had her doubts because he didn't have a face. It could be someone she knew in her waking life, but it wasn't. The faceless man had the same figure, the same voice, and the same presence of someone she had never met. She gradually came to the conclusion that the faceless man was the same person she always dreamed of.

Recently, she's been dreaming about a beautiful garden, whose roses were reddest of the red. Leaves, greenest of the green. It was unbelievable how vivid the colors were. They'd have conversations—conversations she regretfully, had forgotten. The dream always somehow ended at that place.

She lazily faced her pillow and stretched her arm to reach the sketchbook that was underneath. She raised her sketchbook in the air, against the light, and just stared at the sketch she drew.

The sun had finally headed west. Eunji was lying on her bed, scrolling through her social media, waiting for her eyes to strain. She felt like she would dream better if she could fall asleep on her own. It was only her theory. Her eyes shut close as soon as she felt drowsy, leaving her phone clutched in her palm.

She surrendered herself to the dreams.

She was walking. Broken lights lit the grim street of an unfamiliar town she was in. It was late at night, but she was still walking, unafraid.

Few people passed by her, presuming they were on their way home after overworking themselves from their jobs. She kept on walking, observing different occurrences happening before her eyes. But only paid little attention.

She was looking for something—

Someone.

A bookstore few blocks away caught her attention. The store stood out as it was the only store on the street that seemed to be open even this late at night. Lights were coming out from the glass windows. She had a strong urge to visit the shop because it felt important.

She observed the store from outside through the glass window. She turned her head from left to right, from counter to each bookshelf, only to realize that there was no one inside. The store was, however, well lit, she could even hear the faint music coming from inside.