I stared up at my popcorn ceiling, trying to fit the pieces of the dream together. Who was that guy? And why did my subconscious decide to dress him up like a Ken doll with a severe personality deficit? Emerald green eyes. No shadow. The shimmering air. It wasn't just a dream; it felt like a downloaded memory of someone I was supposed to know, only the file was corrupted.
"Okay, Luna, think", I muttered, punching my pillow. "This is classic dream analysis. The handsome, unattainable figure represents...my crush on that senior who wears too much cologne? No, he's too perfect. The lack of a shadow? That means...Am I afraid of commitment? or that the guy is literally not human?"
My dreams, generally, were either wonderfully silly - like the one where I successfully argued with my math teacher using interpretative dance - or darkly dramatic. This one felt like a glitch in the matrix, an episode of a sci-fi show, which I hadn't turned into yet.
My internal monologue: Seriously, why can't I just dream about winning the lottery or getting superpowers? Is my brain that dramatic that it has conjure up a tall, silent, unnervingly flawless dude just to make me question the fundamental laws of physics before breakfast? I mean, I appreciate the aesthetics, but come on. Give the girl a break!
I tried to rewind the memory, focusing on the moment I saw the shimmer. It was like looking through bad glass. A sudden, deep-seated anxiety, the king that makes your palms sweat, tightened in my chest. What's if it wasn't a nightmare? What if it was a warning? or worse, what if that vacant look in his green eyes meant someone, somewhere, was looking for me?
"Luna! Are you up yet? You're going to be late for school!", my mom's voice boomed up the stairs, laced with the usual pre-eight a.m. parental urgency.
"Coming, Mom!" I yelled back, snapping out of my daze. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, feeling unusually heavy, my brain still buzzing with green-eyed mystery.
I trudged toward the bathroom mirror, catching my own reflection-- sleep-creased pajamas, hair doing its usual impression of a startled hedgehog.
My second internal monologue, this one fueled by sheer terror: School...school...Wait. Why is Mom so stressed about being late? It's Tuesday. Regular Tuesday. Oh, No. Tuesday is the day...
My eyes widened in horror. I slapped my forehead. "You idiot! You absolute, dream-obsessed, green-eye-fixated idiot!" I hissed at my reflection.
It wasn't just a regular Tuesday. It was Algebra II Exam day. The one I'd been completely, utterly forgot about while my brain was busy producing a high-budget feature film about a handsome stranger who may or may not be an energy vampire.
I snatched my toothbrush, simultaneously pulling on a fresh T-shirt with my free hand. Dreams of handsome, possibly holographic men would have to wait. Survival was now the priority. I sprinted out of my room, already halfway down the stairs, textbook clutched under one arm, ready to race against the clock and the terrifying geometry of pre-calc.