I woke up gasping.
My body jerked upright so violently that my bedsheet fell to the floor. My chest was heaving as if I had just run miles without stopping.
Sweat clung to my back, my palms trembling as I instinctively touched myself from side to side before finally realising where I was.
The room was quiet.
Morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and golden, completely ordinary. The ceiling fan spun lazily above me. My alarm clock blinked 6:12 AM in dull red numbers.
I stared at it for a long moment.
This… was wrong.
I ran a hand down my face, feeling solid skin, warm breath, a racing pulse. My heart was beating fast, but steady. I was Alive.
"It was just a nightmare," I muttered to myself, though the words felt hollow.
But nightmares fade.
They blur at the edges. The details slip away like water through fingers.
This didn't.
I could still see Mr. Carter's panicked eyes. I could still hear his voice screaming to close the door. I could still feel that unbearable pressure before everything went black.
Slowly, I reached for my phone only to realise there's something in my hand, "Didn't I leave it on the table?" I thought to myself, looking at the dairy before putting it say and picking up my phone from the bedside table and turned it on.
February 15.
The same date... The exact same date as I swallowed.
"No… that's not possible." I said as I threw off the blanket and walked to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face.
The reflection staring back at me looked normal... messy black hair, tired eyes, faint shadows under them. Just Adrian Elijah. Just a regular guy.
Except my eyes didn't look confused... They looked afraid.
Because deep down, I knew this wasn't just a nightmare... It was too real, too painful to be just a dream.
"No," I said slapping my face, "WAKE UP! IT WAS A DREAM!!" I said to myself, as if telling myself to believe that.
"Yea, it was a dream, I should get ready for office." I said, but my voice didn't sound convincing even to me.
I moved quickly, almost aggressively, as if speed could shake the fear out of my body. I showered in a rush, the water running colder than usual because I didn't even wait for it to warm up properly. I brushed my teeth while staring at my reflection, trying to steady my breathing.
It's just a dream. People don't die and wake up again. That doesn't happen.
In the kitchen, I opened the fridge and froze. The breakfast I was going to make? It's eggs and bead.
For some reason, my chest tightened the moment I saw them. I stood there longer than necessary, staring at something so ordinary it felt ridiculous to be afraid of it.
I made eggs and bread anyway. My favorite breakfast. It is simple and easy... Something I don't have to think about.
The oil keep sizzling in the pan as I keep realising that I did that in the dream as well.
On the same exact date aswell, february 15.
The same morning. The same early wake-up. The same quiet apartment and...
My hands started trembling slightly as I flipped the egg. I told myself it was just leftover anxiety from the nightmare, but my heartbeat was getting faster for no reason.
"Same breakfast is nothing but a coincidence." I told myself after eating. I then washed the dishes. Then my eyes shifted to the pile of clothes in the corner.
Iron them.
The thought came automatically, like a script playing in my head as I swallowed.
I ironed them "yesterday", I'm sure I did but as I walked over and touched the shirts, they were all wrinkled.
Every last one of them, exactly like before.
A cold wave of panic washed over me.
"No… no, no, no…" I whispered under my breath. Asking myself if it was a dream? Or a day repeated? Cuz all of it felt too real, I still remember the heat from the iron as I ironed them and now... Here they are.
I plugged in the iron anyway. My hands moved stiffly, pressing the fabric down, smoothing the same sleeves, the same collars. It felt less like doing chores, which I have done once already.
When I finally got dressed, I checked the time.
6:29 AM.
And then my alarm rang.
The sound made my heart slam violently against my ribs.
This is wrong.
This is exactly how it happened.
I still remember that I woke up early. Finished everything. And just as I got dressed, the alarm rang.
Exactly like this.
I turned it off slowly, my fingers cold despite the warm room.
I need air.
I stepped outside and decided to walk to the office again, just like I had before. The morning air was cool, brushing against my face, but it didn't calm me. If anything, it made everything feel sharper.
As I approached the convenience store near the corner, my stomach twisted.
Something is about to happen.
I didn't know how I knew, but I knew.
And then it happened.
The old man stumbled on the uneven sidewalk.
His bag slipped from his hand.
Oranges rolled onto the road.
My breath caught so hard it almost hurt.
"Oh—careful," I said, but the words felt automatic, like I was repeating a line from memory... Though consciously.
Before I could reach him, another man stepped in and picked up the oranges.
"Thank you," the old man said gratefully.
Same voice.
Same timing.
I felt dizzy.
I stood there staring at them longer than normal, my vision narrowing slightly.
This is repeating.
I forced myself to keep walking, but my steps were unsteady now.
Near the bus stop, I felt it again... that horrible sense of anticipation.
Don't... I said to myself.
Please don't... I repeated.
But it still happened, A young guy bumped into a woman.
"Sorry," he said quickly, walking away faster than usual.
The woman stood still.
Then frowned.
She checked her purse.
"My wallet…?"
My chest felt tight, like something heavy was sitting on it.
It's the same. It's all the same.
This isn't coincidence. This isn't normal routine. This is exact. Down to the slast minute details, this is all what happened in my dream.
No... I finally realised that it was not just a dream anymore, I was sure of it now.
I started breathing faster, scanning everything around me as if I could catch a glitch in reality.
At the crossing, the signal turned red.
Cars stopped.
People started walking.
"No…" I whispered.
The biker sped through the red light.
Someone cursed.
The schoolgirl stumbled backward and almost fell.
"Idiot!" she shouted.
Word for word.
I stopped walking completely.
My heart was pounding so loudly I could hear it in my ears. My hands were shaking now, not slightly, but visibly. I turned around, looking at the street, the buildings, the people moving like nothing was wrong.
How is no one noticing this?
How am I the only one who remembers?
This was the day.
The day everything went wrong.
The day Mr. Carter screamed to close the door.
The day that pressure crushed the air out of my lungs.
The day I died.
And I'm walking straight into it again.
I looked up at the office building ahead of me. It stood there calmly, tall and unchanged, as if it wasn't the place where the world ended for me.
My breathing turned uneven.
"This isn't a dream," I muttered, my voice shaking now. "This already happened. I already died."
And if that's true...
Then today is February 15.
Again.