Chapter 7: Not a Dream Anymore

Ryan woke up to the muffled sounds of movement and hurried voices around him. His head throbbed as he slowly sat up, gripping his temples. The room was dimly lit, but he could make out figures moving—his dorm mates had returned. The once-quiet dorm was now alive with chaos, the usual late-night murmurs replaced by frantic energy.

It was already 10:30 PM. The air buzzed with an unsettled tension, and Ryan could hear people shuffling in the hallway. Something had happened.

Simon, his friend and dorm mate, noticed him stirring and rushed over.

"Dude, what happened to you? You okay?" Simon's voice held a mix of concern and urgency.

Ryan blinked, still disoriented. "Yeah…" His voice was hoarse.

As his eyes adjusted, he took in the state of the room. His books, once neatly stacked on the shelf, now lay scattered across the floor. His chair had been knocked over, and even the curtains were out of place. It looked as if the entire room had been shaken to its core.

His chest tightened. Did someone break in?

"What… happened?" His voice came out low, almost hesitant, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

Simon let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. "There was an earthquake. A massive one. But it didn't last long, so there wasn't much damage."

Ryan's body tensed. An earthquake? His mind raced as fragments of memory surfaced visions of past incidents, of things happening exactly as he had foreseen. It wasn't just a feeling anymore. He knew this had happened before.

His headache intensified. A sharp, stabbing pain shot through his skull the harder he tried to piece things together. He clutched his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

"When… exactly did it happen?" His voice was strained.

Simon frowned. "About an hour ago." He studied Ryan's face, noticing the tension in his expression, the way he clutched his head as if trying to keep himself together. Concern flickered in his eyes as he asked, "Are you sure you're okay? When we got back, you were completely out cold."

Ryan met Simon's gaze, pushing down the unease growing in his chest. "Just my headache. Nothing big."

Simon scoffed. "If you passed out from it, it is a big deal. You got any medicine?"

Ryan gestured toward the table, where the painkillers still lay untouched. Simon grabbed them and handed him a glass of water.

As the initial chaos of the dorm settled, the boys eventually returned to their rooms, exhaustion dragging them into sleep. But Ryan remained awake, staring at the ceiling.

The ticking of the clock filled the silence once more.

Something wasn't right. And he was starting to realize—he wasn't just seeing things before they happened.

He was reliving them.

* * *

Ryan's eyelids grew heavy, the weight of exhaustion finally pulling him under. Sleep came swiftly, but peace did not follow.

That night, the nightmare returned.

Once again, he saw himself die—a gunshot, sharp and merciless, tearing through him. But this time, the vision didn't end there. The darkness lifted, revealing a world in ruins. Cities lay crumbled, their skeletal remains stretching into a sky choked with smoke. The air reeked of death and despair. People screamed, wept, and starved, their hollow faces twisted in agony. Rivers ran red, the streets littered with broken bodies.

And in the midst of it all, Ryan stood—alone.

No one by his side. No one to save. No one to save him.

His breath hitched as he jolted awake, drenched in sweat. His heart pounded violently against his ribs, his body trembling as if the nightmare had seeped into reality. The room was eerily quiet. The others were still fast asleep, oblivious to the torment that had just unfolded in his mind.

Swallowing hard, Ryan swung his legs over the bed and quietly made his way to his desk. He grabbed his diary and a pen with shaky hands. This time, he wouldn't take any chances.

If my dreams have anything to do with this… if they hold even a fraction of the truth… then there must be a clue hidden within them.

With that thought, he began to write—detailing the destruction, the suffering, the blood-soaked world he had witnessed. The images burned into his memory, refusing to fade.

And for the first time, a chilling realization settled over him.

This wasn't just a dream.

It was a warning.