The next morning, Mira woke up earlier than usual.
Not because of her alarm.
Not because of work.
But because the dream was still fresh in her mind.
She sat up slowly, staring at the sunlight coming through her window.
His words echoed again.
"Don't get lost here."
Mira sighed.
"That's easy for you to say," she murmured.
Because the strange truth was… she already felt connected to that world.
Her morning routine continued like every other day.
Help her mother in the kitchen.
Drink chai while scrolling through her phone.
Rush to get ready for work.
Everything looked normal.
But Mira noticed something she hadn't expected.
Reality suddenly felt quieter.
At the office, her coworkers chatted about deadlines and meetings.
Someone complained about the workload.
Another person laughed loudly at a joke.
The room was full of noise.
Yet somehow, Mira felt strangely disconnected.
She opened her laptop and started working.
Emails.
Reports.
Data.
Everything moved like a routine she had memorized.
Her fingers typed automatically.
But her mind kept drifting.
During lunch break, Mira sat alone near the office window.
She opened her phone again and played music.
The same familiar songs.
The ones she had been listening to every day recently.
As the music filled her ears, she leaned back in her chair.
"You know what's strange?" she whispered quietly.
"In dreams, conversations feel easier."
No one interrupted.
No one judged.
No one rushed.
It was just… honest talking.
She sighed.
"Maybe that's why I keep going back."
That evening, Mira returned home feeling unusually thoughtful.
After dinner, she went to her room earlier than usual.
Her speaker played soft music in the background while she sat on her bed.
For a few minutes she simply stared at the wall.
Then suddenly she did something she hadn't done in years.
She opened a notebook.
A diary.
The first page remained blank for a moment.
Mira tapped the pen against the paper thoughtfully.
Then she started writing.
Diary Entry
Something strange has been happening to me.
I keep having the same dream.
The same place.
The same person.
And the conversations continue every time.
I know it sounds ridiculous.
But those conversations feel more honest than most of the ones I have in real life.
Maybe that says something about me.
Or maybe it just means my brain is overactive.
Either way… I think I'm starting to understand something.
She paused, thinking carefully before writing the next line.
The dream version of him listens.
Not like people usually do.
He listens like he actually understands.
Mira stopped writing and stared at the page.
The words felt more honest than she expected.
She slowly closed the diary.
"Okay," she whispered to herself.
"Now I'm officially documenting my delusion."
She laughed softly.
But the laugh faded quickly.
Because even if the situation sounded ridiculous…
the emotions felt real.
Later that night, Mira lay in bed again.
Her phone screen glowed softly beside her.
The music had already stopped.
The room was silent.
She closed her eyes slowly.
For the first time, she wasn't just curious about the dream.
She was waiting for it.
Because somehow…
in that strange world her mind had created…
someone was listening.
And sometimes…
that was all she really needed.