The next morning, Billy woke up with a strange feeling of determination.
After yesterday's discovery, he couldn't stop thinking about his power. It's real. It actually works, he thought, staring at his ceiling.
He sat up in bed and looked around his apartment. Clothes were scattered on the floor, dirty dishes piled up in the sink, and dust covered nearly every surface.
"What a mess..." he muttered with a sigh.
Then, an idea struck him.
What if... what if I could clean all of this... without lifting a finger?
He closed his eyes and focused hard, channeling all his frustration and exhaustion about the mess into one single, desperate thought:
I wish this place was spotless. Please, just... clean itself.
He opened his eyes.
Nothing.
Billy frowned. Maybe I didn't want it enough?
He tried again, this time letting genuine emotion flood through him—embarrassment at living like this, shame if Marie ever saw his apartment in this state, the overwhelming desire to just have a clean space without the effort.
Please. I really, really need this place to be clean.
Suddenly, a gentle breeze swept through the room even though all the windows were closed.
Billy's eyes widened as he watched in disbelief.
The clothes on the floor folded themselves neatly and floated into the closet. Dishes flew from the sink into the dishwasher. Dust particles lifted into the air and vanished. Within seconds, his entire apartment was immaculate.
"Holy... it actually worked!" Billy whispered, his heart racing.
He walked around his apartment, touching the clean surfaces, opening drawers, checking corners. Everything was perfect.
So it's not just objects appearing, he thought. I can make things happen. But only when I really, truly want it. When there's real emotion behind it.
Billy spent the rest of the morning testing his power carefully.
He wished for a fresh cup of coffee—and one appeared on his desk, still steaming.
He thought about having his laptop fully charged—and the battery instantly showed 100%.
Each time, he made sure to put genuine desire behind the wish. And each time, it worked.
This is incredible, he thought. But... why me? Where did this come from?
The question lingered in his mind as the day passed quietly. He worked on his coding project, went for a walk, ate a simple dinner.
By evening, exhaustion—or rather, the memory of exhaustion—settled over him. Even though he couldn't feel tired anymore, his body seemed to crave the routine of sleep.
Billy changed into his pajamas and lay down in bed.
Maybe tonight I'll dream again, he thought. Maybe I'll understand more about what's happening to me.
He closed his eyes.
In the Dream
Billy found himself standing in that same glowing space from before—the one that looked like a surreal fast-food commercial.
Floating burgers, golden fries, sparkling soda. Everything shimmered with an unnatural light.
But this time, it felt different. More vivid. More real.
In front of him appeared a perfect burger—juicy, topped with melted cheese, crispy lettuce, and a golden toasted bun.
His stomach rumbled even though he wasn't sure if he could feel hunger in a dream.
Might as well, he thought, reaching for it.
He took a bite.
The taste exploded in his mouth—rich, savory, satisfying. It was the best burger he'd ever had. He took another bite, then another, devouring it completely.
When he finished, he licked his fingers and smiled.
"That was amazing..."
Meanwhile, in Reality
In his bed, Billy's body lay completely still, eyes closed, breathing softly.
But in another reality—a parallel layer of existence—Billy was wide awake.
He sat at a small diner, alone, eating that exact same burger.
The neon lights flickered above him. The jukebox played an old song. A waitress refilled his water glass without saying a word.
Billy ate slowly, savoring every bite, completely unaware that in another version of reality, he was asleep in his bed.
When he finished, he wiped his mouth with a napkin, left money on the table, and walked out into the night.
Back in the Dream
Billy blinked.
The glowing space faded.
He woke up in his bed, sunlight streaming through the window.
He checked his phone: 9:30 a.m.
"Another weird dream..." he muttered, rubbing his eyes.
But something felt off.
He sat up and noticed something on his nightstand—a crumpled napkin with a diner's logo on it.
Billy froze.
That... that wasn't there before.
He picked it up slowly, his hands trembling slightly.
Did I... did I really go somewhere? Or did I dream it so vividly that it became real again?
He didn't have an answer.
Shaking his head, he decided not to overthink it.
"Just another strange day, I guess."
Billy got up, made himself breakfast, and sat down at his computer to work on his project.
The day passed like any other—quiet, mundane, ordinary.
But deep down, Billy couldn't shake the feeling that something much bigger was happening to him.
Something he didn't fully understand yet.