Awake once more, Sel finds his new world intact. This time, the signs of a dream state are obvious. It’s nighttime. The distant howls of owls carry through the slightly cold breeze. His window is ajar, no wonder it feels chilly. Realizing again that this is not his room, Sel performs his reality checks: pinch the skin—does it hurt? No.

  Can I breathe while holding my nose? Seems so. Final test: will my hands pass through each other? Looks like they will. All three checks fail. He is, in fact, dreaming again. He chuckles quietly at himself for doing multiple checks; even one failing would have been enough. But this is Sel—he always double-checks, even in simple tasks, to avoid mistakes.

  He is happy to be dreaming again. Now he can try things impossible in real life, even basic things like walking and running.

  The idea strikes him immediately. He wants to walk, explore the night, maybe even fly and be a witch for once. The thought is childish, but it amuses him. He laughs aloud, a true mad lad.

  Feeling a bit chilly, he decides to wear something warmer. After all, it’s a dream; he can manifest whatever he wants.

  “Uhm… can I spawn a jacket?” he wonders. Closing his eyes, Sel imagines a thick, warm jacket. Opening one eye, he sees it actually on him.

  Excited, the dream begins to destabilize, but he remembers his lesson. Lowering his excitement, he focuses on stabilizing the world. As the scene blurs, he touches the jacket, feeling its texture through his fingertips. Slowly, the world sharpens. Listening closely, he hears the owls again. A gust of wind closes the window with a gentle thud, grounding the scene further.

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  Stepping out, the room dissolves around him. The scene transforms: he is outdoors in a fantasy-like world. Small houses dot slightly overgrown grasslands. Candlelight flickers in distant windows. Sel walks, delighting in sensations impossible in waking life. His hands glide through the tall grass, and soon his walk turns into running.

  Out of nowhere, the flying creature he saw before reappears, landing gently on his nose. Startled, Sel halts, focusing on the glowing, light-blue being.

  “A fairy!” he whispers, amazed. He picks it up to examine its wings. The thought of flying strikes him again. Placing the fairy on his left shoulder, he attempts to levitate. Nothing happens; his image of flight is unclear. The fairy darts to the side, showing him how to move properly.

  Sel mimics the fairy’s movements with his hands. Slowly, he feels his legs lift from the ground. It works—he is flying. Excitement courses through him, lifting his spirits higher than before.

  But then a heavy weight presses down. His body grows unbearably heavy. Panic rising, he tries to descend gently—success. He pauses to regain strength. Something is wrong. The fairy darts away, leaving him alone.

  The heaviness intensifies. A dark presence looms behind him. Chills run through his body. Sel grows weaker. The dream slips from his grasp; he is no longer lucid. The She constricts, like an entity intent on ending him. He gasps for air, screams, but only a faint sound escapes. Night terror grips him fully.

  Sel wakes abruptly. It’s 5:40 AM. His parents’ concerned voices reach him, asking why he is screaming. He doesn’t respond. He cannot share his inner fears, not even with his closest family.

  The chains are real. Not even his dreams offer reprieve. He struggles, rolling in bed, and slowly drifts back to sleep, the shadow of The She still pressing at the edges of his mind, a reminder of the darkness he carries inside.