INT. ARVEN'S ROOM – MORNING
Sunlight filters through the curtains. Arven wakes slowly, the weight of last night's dream still pressing on his chest. Sweat clings to his forehead, his heartbeat quick and uneven.
Narration: The figure lingers in his mind—faceless, blinding, pleading for help. The urgency gnaws at him, refusing to fade.
He shakes off the thought, dresses quickly, and steps outside.
EXT. MAY'S HOUSE – MORNING
May is already waiting in her uniform as Arven approaches.
May: Morning! You look... serious.
Arven (faint smile): Morning. Just... a weird dream last night.
They ride together in her father's car. The radio plays faintly—news anchors discussing the global "nightmare phenomenon."
Radio host (on air): Experts are baffled. Reports say millions across the world are describing the same dream. While scientists call it a case of "mass suggestion," church leaders insist it is a sign of judgment.
May lowers the volume, frowning at Arven.
May: It's all people talk about now.
Arven (quiet): Yeah... but mine's not the same.
INT. SCHOOL – MORNING
The classroom buzzes with whispers. Students huddle in groups, phones glowing in their hands. Teachers try to calm them, but no one listens.
Suzan (to Ray, whispering): Did you see it? Everyone's talking about the same dream!
Ray: Yeah... they're saying it's some kind of sign.
Nico (showing memes): Or maybe just bad pizza. Look—"Nightmare Club 2025."
Some students laugh nervously, while others sit pale and silent.
Teacher (frustrated): Phones away! Everyone settle down! This isn't the end of the world—just focus on class!
But even as she speaks, her hands shake slightly as she adjusts her papers.
Narration: Some laugh. Some deny. Some pray. But fear has already sunk into their voices.
Arven scrolls through his feed. Hashtags trend everywhere: #SameDream, #JudgmentNight, #MassNightmare. Thousands of posts from around the world describe the same faceless figure and cries in the dark.
Arven (thinking): But mine wasn't the same... Why me?
EXT. SCHOOL GROUNDS – LUNCHTIME
Arven and May sit on a bench beneath a tree, away from the loudest groups. May chews her food quietly, studying him.
May: You've been distant since yesterday. Tell me.
Arven (hesitant): Everyone says they saw shadows... voices in the dark. But mine's different.
May (softly): Different how?
Arven (quiet): There was someone there. Faceless. Blinding. Reaching for me. Asking for help.
May's expression falters, the smile slipping away.
May (whispering): That sounds... worse.
The bell rings before she can say more. They head back inside, but the weight of her silence lingers.
EXT. SCHOOL COURTYARD – AFTERNOON
Classes end, but no one rushes home. Groups of students gather, restless, buzzing with fear and speculation. Some sit in prayer circles. Others laugh too loudly, forcing jokes that feel empty.
John joins Arven, his face unusually serious.
John: Don't you think it's strange? Not just the dreams... but how they won't stop?
Arven (nodding slowly): Yeah. It's like they're waiting for something.
Suzan and Nico approach, arguing about whether the dreams mean anything. Ray tries to crack a joke, but no one laughs this time. The usual warmth of the group feels thinner, fragile.
Narration: When fear grows too heavy, people cling to what they can—faith, denial, or laughter. But the silence between words always gives them away.
EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD STREETS – EVENING
Arven walks May home. The streets are busy with chatter, vendors calling out, children playing—but the mood is different. Everyone talks about the dream. Everyone's afraid.
May (quietly, as they walk): If it really is a sign... do you think God's angry at us?
Arven (looking away): I don't know. Maybe it's just a warning. Maybe it's nothing.
They stop at her doorstep. For a moment, the world feels still. May squeezes his hand gently before stepping inside.
May: Be careful, okay?
Arven: Always.
She disappears into the house. Arven stares at the closed door for a moment before heading home.
INT. ARVEN'S ROOM – NIGHT
The house is quiet. Arven lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep takes him again, heavy and restless.
The dream returns. The faceless figure, shrouded in blinding light, reaches toward him. The urgency grows—pleading, desperate. Shadows swirl, closing in. Arven tries to move, but his body is heavy, frozen between action and paralysis.
He jolts awake, breath ragged, sweat dripping down his face.
Arven (whispering): What... what is happening to me?
Narration: Across the world, millions share the same dream. But Arven's is different. And the difference makes it unbearable.
The silence of the night presses against him. Somewhere beyond the dark, the world itself is changing.
To be continued...