Hey, do you ever dream?Dream of escaping reality, of living inside the world of your own imagination.
There are lives we long for—lives so perfect, so beautiful, that reality itself pales beside them.So we turn to illusions, to that thin veil where dreams and reality are just a single step apart.
Someone once said: Reading a novel is to live another life; dreaming is to become another person.I heard that line once, faintly, during a long ride somewhere. And so, I decided to dream about it.
"Hm… why don't I try reading a few novels?" I thought.But classic novels—too long, too dry. So I started with web novels instead.
"Oh, this is fun," I said to myself as I devoured trending titles, newly released stories, even old completed ones.But soon… something felt off. The excitement faded, replaced by a strange doubt.Why did everything feel so simple?
Every story had someone who regressed, someone who transmigrated, someone impossibly strong, someone weak pretending to be strong, someone who knew everything before it happened…Still, I kept reading. I looked for different tags, new settings, anything that could rekindle that spark.
But after a while, I felt full—oversaturated.So I turned to the classics again.Some were great. Some were hard to grasp. Some I abandoned midway. Others made me wonder why no one else had discovered them yet.
And yet… the emotions weren't the same anymore.Perhaps I still preferred that dreamy feeling web novels gave me—those clichéd yet magical stories that let me wander in wonder.Every character felt predictable in their own way, but somehow, they pulled me deeper into that dream. Even when I already knew how it would end.
"Hey, why don't I try writing something?" I thought one day.After all, my own life was dull and repetitive. Maybe it was time to try something new.So I began to write—familiar archetypes, sometimes cliché, sometimes fresh. I wandered through my own imagination, building stories and dreaming of characters that could live beyond me.
I dreamed of becoming one of them, of living inside those stories.But come on—that's just wishful thinking.I've lived long enough to know that dreams are beautiful precisely because they're not real.
And then one day…
My head rested on my desk, surrounded by piles of reports and a laptop still glowing with unfinished work.I took a sip of cold coffee. Not bad. I hadn't slept for over a day—what I really needed now was a long, deep rest.
In that haze of exhaustion, a thought drifted through my mind:Why do authors and readers love stories about transmigrating into fictional worlds and standing above everyone else?I already knew the answer, of course. I just kept avoiding it. Thinking about it wouldn't change anything anyway.
I yawned, glancing at my phone. Past 10 PM.A quick nap won't hurt, I told myself.
…
"WAAAHHHH!!"
"Oh, come on! You finally wake up at noon and that's the first thing you scream?"
"Huh? Where… am I?"
I blinked and looked around.A small, cramped room. Bare walls. A rickety bed. The faint smell of mold.It looked like some cheap rural inn.
Wait. I remembered falling asleep at my desk… just moments ago.
"Did you hit your head or something, Ron? We just escaped from the orphanage!"
I turned toward the voice.A skinny boy with messy black hair and a dirt-streaked face glared at me.
Orphanage? What orphanage? And… Ron? Who's Ron?
I tried to stay calm, forcing my mind to think.Okay… either I've been kidnapped—or this is a dream. Definitely a dream… right?
I stood up—or tried to. My legs gave out instantly, and I crashed face-first onto the floor.Pain flared through my head, my limbs heavy as jelly.And then, darkness again.
In that darkness, I saw… myself.A toddler standing before a grand Victorian mansion.
The world spun like a fast-forwarded film—years flashing by in seconds.Then suddenly, it all slowed.Every breath, every heartbeat, every moment hung still, clear as crystal.
From infancy to adolescence, I watched myself grow up—each stage like a dream suspended between fiction and reality.
"…Ron… RON, WAKE UP!"
SLAP!
"WAAAAAAHHHHHH!"
"Seriously? You never screamed like that when I hit you before!"
Ow. Damn it. That actually hurt… though, not too bad.I rubbed my reddened cheek, trying to make sense of everything.
"Hey, Lunas."
"What now?"
"I… have a plan."