After the third dream, Mira stopped pretending it was normal.
At first, she had tried to ignore it.
Then she tried to explain it logically.
But now, she couldn't deny the pattern.
The same place.
The same person.
And conversations that continued exactly where they had left off.
That wasn't how dreams usually worked.
The next morning at work, Mira sat at her desk staring at her computer screen.
The report in front of her remained unfinished.
Her fingers rested on the keyboard, unmoving.
Her mind was somewhere else.
"What if it happens again tonight?" she thought.
A strange mixture of curiosity and nervousness twisted inside her chest.
Part of her wanted the dream to return.
Another part wasn't sure if she was ready for it.
Because there was a question she had been avoiding.
A question she didn't know how to ask.
Or what answer she might receive.
That night, Mira lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
She knew sleep would come eventually.
And with it… the possibility of the dream.
Her heart beat a little faster than usual.
"What if it really happens again?" she whispered.
Slowly, exhaustion pulled her into sleep.
When her eyes opened, she was already standing in the studio.
This time, she wasn't surprised.
She simply sighed.
"Of course."
The room looked exactly the same as always.
Bright lights.
Speakers.
The wide rehearsal floor.
Before she could say anything else, the familiar voice appeared behind her again.
"You look less shocked this time."
Mira turned around calmly.
"You're becoming predictable."
He raised an eyebrow.
"That sounds like criticism."
"It is."
She crossed her arms.
"You keep showing up in my dreams."
"And you keep showing up here."
"Because I'm asleep," she replied.
He shrugged slightly.
"Same result."
Mira walked across the room slowly, thinking.
Then she stopped and looked at him again.
There it was.
The question.
The one she had been avoiding.
Her voice became quieter.
"Can I ask you something?"
"You already are."
She rolled her eyes.
"You know what I mean."
He nodded.
"Go ahead."
Mira hesitated for a moment.
Then she asked.
"Who are you when I'm awake?"
The room suddenly felt quieter.
Even the faint background music seemed to disappear.
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he studied her face carefully.
"Why does that matter?" he asked finally.
"Because," she said slowly, "when I wake up… you don't exist."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Are you sure about that?"
"Yes."
"You listen to my songs."
"That's not the same."
"You watch interviews."
"Still not the same."
He took a few steps closer.
"Then maybe," he said calmly, "I exist in different ways."
Mira frowned.
"That sounds like a riddle."
"Maybe it is."
She sighed in frustration.
"You're avoiding the question."
"And you're asking the wrong one."
Her eyebrows lifted.
"What's the right question?"
He looked at her for a long moment before answering.
"Why did your mind create me here?"
The question caught her off guard.
"I didn't create you," she said quickly.
"Didn't you?"
"No."
"Then why me?"
Mira opened her mouth to respond.
But no answer came out.
Because the truth was…
she didn't know.
The lights flickered again.
Mira immediately recognized the signal.
The dream was ending.
She looked at him quickly.
"This is annoying," she said.
"What is?"
"Dreams ending right when conversations get serious."
He smiled faintly.
"Maybe that's intentional."
"By who?"
But the room was already fading.
Before everything disappeared, she heard his voice one last time.
"Next time," he said quietly,
"try asking a different question."
Mira woke up suddenly.
Morning sunlight filled the room.
Her alarm clock read 7:12 AM.
She sat up slowly, replaying the dream in her mind.
The question.
The silence.
His strange answer.
Then she whispered the thought she had been avoiding.
"What if…"
She stopped herself.
Because the idea sounded ridiculous.
Impossible.
But it still lingered in her mind.
"What if I didn't create the dream?"