CHAPTER Two: Overwhelmed

Sam sighed. He had planned to get at least seven hours of sleep tonight, but it was impossible to resist checking. He swiped, unlocking the screen.

A new message from his friend Lisa: "Check out this new app—it's crazy! You've gotta try it. Everyone's on it now."

Sam tapped the link. The app's name was The Feed. It had a sleek logo and promised "real-time connection with everything that matters."

A glance through the user reviews confirmed Lisa's claim—people were raving about it, calling it "life-changing" and "addictive."

Sam hesitated for a second. Something about it felt a little off. But as he scrolled through the reviews, he felt a familiar pull. The fear of missing out—FOMO—had been eating at him for years, and in this moment, it became unbearable.

With a resigned sigh, he downloaded The Feed.

The installation took only seconds. The screen flickered, then displayed a bright, friendly welcome message: "We curate your world. Let us help you stay connected."

Below it, a box prompted him to connect his social media accounts, all of them. Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, LinkedIn, even older platforms like Snapchat that he hardly used anymore.

It took him less than a minute to link everything. As soon as he did, the app sprang to life, scrolling through his feeds, comments, likes, and messages at lightning speed. A sensation of strange warmth spread through his fingertips, but he chalked it up to excitement.

The screen dimmed, and suddenly his phone was filled with images and notifications, far faster than his usual apps. There were live updates, videos, and posts from people he hadn't thought about in years.

High school acquaintances, old coworkers, forgotten college friends, all of them streamed directly into The Feed. he was overwhelmed.

At first, he felt exhilarated—everything he ever wanted to know, all in one place. No more missing out.

But after a few minutes, the content never stopped. It kept refreshing, faster than he could take it in, and it felt... strange.

The room around him started to fade, the walls shrinking as his vision tunneled toward the screen. he shook his head and put the phone down, suddenly realizing he had been scrolling for nearly an hour. His heart thudded heavily in his chest. How had time slipped by so fast?

Exhausted, Sam forced himself to close the app and shut his eyes. Sleep didn't come easily.

He tossed and turned for what felt like hours, his mind spinning with an endless torrent of posts, messages, and the constant pull to recheck The Feed. Finally, he drifted off into a restless sleep.

***

Suddenly, he was transported to a crowded subway station. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting eerie shadows that danced around him.

The station was filled with people, all glued to their phones, scrolling mindlessly. They bumped into Sam without acknowledging him, their faces pale and expressionless.

He tried to speak, to connect with someone, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of notifications chiming endlessly. Each chime felt like a weight pressing down on his chest.

As he made his way through the crowd, he noticed that the screens of his peers were filled with images of perfect lives—vacations in exotic locations, glamorous parties, and flawless bodies.

Sam felt a wave of inadequacy wash over him, as if the world around him was a gallery of his failures.

He glanced at his own phone, only to see his reflection staring back at him, tear-streaked and hopeless.

The pressure to conform, to succeed, loomed over him like a storm cloud, darkening his thoughts.

Desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere, Sam rushed to the exit, but the doors slammed shut in front of him. He pounded on the glass, but it felt as if an invisible force was holding his back.

Panic set in; He could hear whispers around him, snippets of conversation that seemed to mock his insecurities. "You'll never be good enough," one voice sneered. "Why can't you just try harder?" another echoed.

Just then, the lights flickered out, plunging the station into darkness. Sam was left standing alone, his heart pounding in his chest.

The darkness felt alive, creeping closer, wrapping around him like a shroud. He closed his eyes, hoping to wake up, but the suffocating pressure only intensified. The whispers grew louder, drowning out his thoughts, pulling him deeper into despair.

When the lights returned, he found himself in a vast, empty room. A digital clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, each one echoing in the silence.

Sam glanced around, feeling the walls closing in. Suddenly, the clock began to speed up, each tick resonating with the ticking time bomb of expectations that plagued his life.

The numbers flashed: deadlines for work, reminders for social events, the constant obligation to maintain a perfect online presence.

Overwhelmed, Sam sank to the floor, tears streaming down his face. In that moment of despair, he realized that the nightmare wasn't just about external pressures; it was also about his own internal struggles.

The dream transformed, revealing a mirror reflecting not just his fears but also his resilience.