Ethan sat in the dimly lit food court, the chaos of the mall swirling around him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe as he watched his best friend, Alex, collapse to the ground, blood pooling beneath him. A masked shooter fled the scene, disappearing into the panicked crowd. Ethan screamed, but no sound came out. He dropped to his knees beside Alex, shaking him, begging him to wake up.
And then he did.
Ethan bolted upright in his bed, gasping for air. His heart thundered in his chest as he scrambled for his phone. It had to be a nightmare, just another vivid dream. He dialed Alex’s number with trembling fingers. To his immense relief, Alex answered, his voice groggy but alive.
“Dude, it’s 3 AM,” Alex mumbled. “What’s going on?”
Ethan exhaled sharply, his body sagging with relief. “Nothing. Just… had a bad dream. Wanna hang out tomorrow? Grab lunch or something?”
“Sure,” Alex said, still half-asleep. “Text me in the morning.”
The next day, they met at the mall. Everything felt normal. Ethan laughed at Alex’s terrible jokes, the dream slipping further from his mind. But as they were walking to their favorite burger place, Ethan felt a sudden jolt. The world blurred, and he was back in bed.
Confused, Ethan grabbed his phone again and called Alex. This time, a woman answered.
“Mrs. Carter?” Ethan asked hesitantly, recognizing Alex’s mother’s voice.
There was a pause. “Ethan, why are you calling?” she said, her voice strained.
“I… I just wanted to talk to Alex. Is he around?”
Her reply hit him like a punch to the gut. “Ethan, Alex is gone. He was… he was shot at the mall last week. We’re still… we’re still arranging the funeral.”
Ethan’s phone slipped from his hand, crashing to the floor. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a continuation of the nightmare. He crawled back into bed, clutching his knees to his chest, tears streaming down his face. If he could just sleep, maybe he’d wake up to a different reality.
But when morning came, Alex was still dead.
Ethan spent the day mourning, unable to eat, unable to function. Every corner of his apartment reminded him of Alex—their shared memories, the inside jokes, the plans they’d made. By the time night fell, exhaustion overtook him, and he drifted into a restless sleep.
His phone rang the next morning, pulling him from his haze. He answered without looking, expecting another condolence call. But the voice on the other end froze him.
“Ethan? It’s me. Alex.”
“Alex?” Ethan whispered, his voice shaking. “This… this isn’t funny. You’re… you’re dead.”
“What are you talking about?” Alex sounded confused. “We just hung out yesterday. You okay, man? Maybe you’re overthinking things.”
Ethan’s head spun. Could this really be Alex? Did the nightmare blur into reality, or was reality slipping into the dream?
They decided to meet at the mall again. As they walked through the food court, a sickening sense of familiarity washed over Ethan. The laughter, the conversations, the smells—it all mirrored his dream. He grabbed Alex’s arm, his voice urgent. “Alex, I think something bad is going to happen. We need to leave. Now.”
Alex frowned, brushing him off. “Ethan, you’re overthinking this. Let’s just get some food.”
But then it happened.
The shooter appeared, just as he had in Ethan’s dream. Time slowed as Ethan watched the gun raise, the muzzle flash. But this time, something was different. Alex fell to the ground, blood spreading across his shirt. And Ethan… Ethan was holding the gun.
Panic consumed him as he dropped the weapon, his hands trembling. “This isn’t real,” he muttered, slapping his face. “Wake up. Wake up!”
But the pain didn’t wake him. The chaos didn’t dissolve. Police officers swarmed the scene, pinning him to the ground as bystanders screamed.
Ethan’s mind raced, his vision blurring with tears. “Have I finally woken up? Is this… not just a dream?”
The last thing he saw before everything went black was Alex’s lifeless eyes staring back at him.
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