Exploration and rules

That night, I squeezed my eyes shut, praying I'd wake up in my bed. Back to normal. But the second I felt night air biting my skin and dead leaves crunching underfoot? Bullshit. Still here.

The park. Same place, but now the sky was a black hole punched with stars. Streetlights flickered like dying fireflies. I spun around—no girl. Panic clawed up my throat. Trapped? Or was this dream giving me free rein?

If this is a dream… can I break it?

I wandered, brain on fire. This wasn't memory lane. This wasn't watching old home videos. I was here. Alive. Which meant I could act.

Breathed in. Focused. A test: something small. Dug a coin from my pocket—pocket junk from kid-me—and chucked it under a bench. If this was just a mind movie, that coin would vanish next time. But if I'd really messed with the past…

— What're you doing? — Her voice sliced through the silence.

I whipped around. She leaned against a tree, arms crossed, smirking like she'd caught me cheating on a test.

— Trying to figure this out, — I said, voice steadier than I felt.

She tilted her head, then strutted over and flopped onto the bench. — And? —

I hesitated. Couldn't spill the truth. Hell, I didn't even know the truth.

— Dreams can feel too real, — I said finally.

She snorted. — You always do this. Fight what's right in front of you. —

— Always? — I stepped closer. — How long have we even known each other? —

She stood, sudden. Wind yanked at her hair, and for a heartbeat, her eyes looked… sad. 

—Depends on you, — she said softly. — But it's not about how long you remember. It's about what you do now. —

Her answer just dug the hole deeper. If this was my past… what was she?

I clenched my fists. No more flying blind. Needed rules. Lines. Something to keep me from spiraling.

— If I change something here…— I swallowed. —Does it wreck my future? —

She stared me down, like we were in a game of chicken. — Why ask? —

— Because I think it's already happened, — I snapped. —And if it has… I need to know what's off-limits. —

Silence hung between us, raw and heavy, until crickets started screaming in the distance.

— The past's thin ice, — she finally said. — Toss a pebble—ripples rewrite everything. But chuck a boulder? Still just water in the end. —

Her words hooked under my ribs. So the past wasn't unbreakable… but the damage? Temporary. Mess with it, and my present gets edits—not a full rewrite.

If this was true, I had a new mission: Burn it all down. Test the limits.

I locked eyes with her. Still a ghost. Still a mystery. But every time I crashed back into this dream, she was there. Waiting. Watching.

Figure her out, figure me out.

— I want to keep digging, — I said, voice steel.

Her grin went feral. — Then let's light some fires. —

The dreams kept coming. Not flashes—invasions. Every time I blinked, I was back in that park. Rotting swings, chain-links rattling. Her smile sharper each visit. The déjà vu? A live wire under my skin.

Worst part? The changes stuck. Skip a street in the past? Wake up with a new scar on my knee. Dodge a childhood bully? Find his face blurred in yearbooks.

But her? Gone every morning. Just the ache of a name I couldn't grab.

Next time I woke up there, she was leaning against the slide, all smirk and danger.

— Quiet today, — she said, toeing dirt. — Plotting arson? —

This isn't a dream.

Couldn't say it. Not yet.

— Just… thinking, — I lied.

Her laugh cut like glass. — Liar. —

— Just… wanna try something, — I said, picking words like grenade pins.

She raised an eyebrow.

First test: ditch my usual route home. Took the alley behind Old Man Rivera's instead. Woke up, clawed through memories—there it was. The alley, etched into my brain like it'd always been there. Not huge. But real.

Kept pushing. Reworded fights. Dodged teachers. Each tweak left scars. Subtle, but there.

But some shit stuck. Cement-hard. Try to erase a fight with Mom at twelve? My brain static-buzzed, refusing playback. Limits.

Her? Gone every morning. Just the ghost of her laugh. A name I couldn't grab.

The park—our spot—felt heavier each visit. Rotting chains, weeds cracking concrete. She sat on the swing, kicking dirt.

— You okay? — she asked, head tilted.

—Just… thinking, —I lied.

She smirked, swinging higher. Knew.

But the doubt? Still there. Gnawing. If this wasn't a dream… if I was really rewriting my life… what happened to the old me?

Blurted it out: — Ever wonder what happens if you… I dunno, burn it all down? —

She froze mid-swing. — Guess so, — she said, voice soft. — But 'what-ifs' are quicksand. You stop moving? You drown. —

Her calm—like she'd swallowed the moon—slammed the panic back. Didn't matter if the world cracked. She stayed. Anchor in the storm.

But I'd keep carving cracks.

Because sooner or later?

Everything breaks.