But even as Orien went about his quiet days—filling notebooks with riddles from the unseen and hiding behind weary smiles—the dreams persisted. They slipped through the cracks of his calm like wind beneath a sealed door. Graduation did not end them. Nor did unemployment, or prayer, or time. If anything, the visions grew bolder, as though waiting for him to stop running and start listening.
And so, beneath the stillness of his waking life, a storm brewed—one he could no longer ignore.
It began with memories that weren't his, and questions that never left with the dawn.
Dreams came to him even when his mind was blank before sleep.
There was an old saying in his hometown, passed among his clansmen: "Whenever you sleep with something on your mind, you dream of that very thing." That saying comforted him in the early days, explaining away the vivid scenes he experienced at night. Sometimes, he would simply dream about movies he'd watched or books he'd read.
But as time went on, the dreams began to shift. They no longer echoed his daily life. They no longer needed a reason.
He started dreaming of ancient stales that held records of long-forgotten greats, of secret passageways buried beneath ruins, and of realms that felt nothing like Earth.
Sometimes, he saw himself die in a dream—only to awaken in a new place, stripped of his memories, living a new life. That was until someone who had known him from his previous life screamed upon seeing him, their eyes wide with disbelief, fear, and awe.
"Akudaya!" they cried—"The living dead!"
In his hometown, Akudaya were said to be those who had died with unfulfilled destinies. These souls would continue life elsewhere, far from home, avoiding recognition. If someone they once knew ever spotted them and acknowledged their identity, they would vanish on the spot—returning to the afterlife with no chance of fulfilling their lingering purpose.
Orien never imagined he would one day dream of becoming such a figure.
At some point, the dreams grew overwhelming. He began forgetting them due to how frequently they came. He would wake restless and uneasy, haunted by the sense that death lingered near. In some dreams, he felt his soul leaving his body entirely—with no promise of return.
He told no one. Instead, he kept a diary to record what he could remember—dreams, nightmares, symbols, and omens.
In time, Orien adapted. He began to see these dreams as rare knowledge—hidden truths few people were ever allowed to witness. The fear faded. What remained was a quiet respect. He didn't understand their meaning, and he was certain that no one around him could accurately interpret them either. So why disturb his mind with something that had no answer?
He let it rest in the dust—and focused on the waking world.
Eventually, Orien graduated from university with good results. He was responsible and proper in everything he did. He completed national service, applied for jobs in every sector his qualifications allowed. But reality was not kind to dreamers.
It said, "Try again later."
And he did.
He applied to every available post, again and again. Nothing worked.
His school days hadn't been easy, but he had hoped life would change once he found work. Without a job, how was he to build a future or help his parents and siblings in such hard times?
Though he was the firstborn, his family never pressured him. His parents were kind, his siblings understanding. Still, Orien had placed the burden on himself. He had to help. He had to lead.
After his father retired, his parents turned to farming with what little capital they had. His younger brother started working part-time. His youngest sibling was still in school. The invisible pressure Orien carried grew tenfold.
He stopped applying for official jobs and started doing part-time work—just to contribute.
But the dreams never left him.
Among all the dreams he experienced, four types stood out—each recurring, each unsettling, and each leaving a deep impression on him.
The First
Whenever Orien liked a girl in real life and began to consider making a move, he would dream of her.
But not as herself.
In the dream, she would transform into a horrific being—terrifying, grotesque, and unnatural. The image would shock him awake, heart pounding.
This didn't happen once or twice. It happened several times, always to the few girls he found himself drawn to. His romantic life was reduced to near zero. While he had brief romantic encounters, they never lasted—shattered by dreams, nightmares, and his ever-present worries for his family's future.
The Second
He would dream of snakes—sometimes just one, other times a whole nest—chasing him through unknown lands. Serpents with venomous fangs, slithering tongues, and gaping maws tried to bite, poison, or devour him whole.
No dream scared him more.
The Third
In this dream, he would find himself helping beautiful maidens in mystical realms—saving them from danger, guiding them through darkness. He once even witnessed the birth of a maiden, surrounded by powerful beings who fought over her fate—some wanting to protect her, others determined to destroy her.
Sometimes, these dreams turned romantic. Orien hoped to one day meet these mysterious women in real life.
But he never did.
The Fourth
The final recurring dream was always about black cats.
Orien had loved cats since childhood—so much so that he once wandered off as a child, following a stray for hours. He begged his parents for a pet cat, but they refused. In local folklore, cats—especially black ones—were believed to be vessels for witches, wizards, and spirits. They were thought to be familiar mediums for evil schemes.
So, his parents rejected the idea from the start.
Still, the dreams continued. He saw himself surrounded by many cats—different breeds, but all black.
And then, there was one special cat.
It appeared in his dreams more than once—a large, regal black feline, as big as a grown wolf. Its fur was soft and dark as night, its golden slitted eyes sharp and knowing. The cat would lounge lazily beside him, enjoying his calm, rhythmic pats.
There was a sacred beauty to it—almost divine. Orien never forgot the feeling of being near it, even after waking.
Sometimes in the dream, he would send the great cat on mysterious journeys. It always returned, successful, earning his gentle praise.
This dream felt important. Different.
For the first time, he shared it with his parents.
But they were confused. Unable to interpret it, they turned to a local cleric.
The cleric's words surprised Orien.
"This is an ominous nightmare," he said. "Dreaming of a cat is bad enough—but a black one? Worse." He handed Orien a set of holy book chapters and instructed him to read them before bed.
It worked—for a while. The dreams stopped.
But not for long.
When they returned, they came fiercer than before.
Orien was truly afraid. Whether awake or asleep, he felt unrest in his soul. A quiet dread whispered to him that he might not live long.
He was only in his late twenties.
So he decided to prepare for the worst.
He transferred all his savings to his parents' account. Then he visited them in person—he didn't want to worry them. When they asked about the money, he said:
"Those are just my savings from part-time jobs. I didn't want to waste them, so I sent them to you for safekeeping."
They smiled, pleased by his thoughtfulness.
To the world, his savings were small. But to his family, it meant a lot—especially in those hard times.
After that, Orien quietly said his goodbyes. He visited his siblings, advised them to care for their parents and for themselves. He laughed with them, hugged them, told them he was proud.
He had a good relationship with his family. They all loved each other deeply.
Then he waited—for whatever fate would bring.