I know I'm in a dream when I feel weightless, floating through the air without any effort.
I can tell because the details of this dream are so vivid and lifelike, it feels as if I'm living it in real-time.
As with most dreams, I find myself as a passive observer, watching my body act out its own story. It's a refreshing thing, considering that most of the time, when I close my eyes and flutter to dreamland, I long for a change in scenery.
The event replays in my mind on an endless loop, impossible to escape no matter how much I try to divert my thoughts.
Anything else would be an improvement compared to the burden of remembering this.
Whenever I dreamt in the past, Evan would inevitably make an appearance.
Seeing him again would have been wonderful, but my nightmares make it difficult to find peace. In the dark corners of my imagination, I can almost feel the bone-chilling coldness and the suffocating fear that accompanies the replay of his accident. Considering the fact that I was nowhere near his accident when it occurred, it's quite perplexing.
The only thing I witnessed was the aftermath, scattered debris and shattered glass.
And yet, my brain tricks me into believing that I experienced it firsthand, standing on the street and watching the scene play out in vivid detail.
In my nightmares, the scene is drenched in darkness, with bone-chilling screams echoing through the air, much like a horror movie.
From the sidelines, I watch Evan's car swerve abruptly as a massive creature darts across his path. I can't even begin to imagine what Evan saw sprinting in front of him.
Sometimes, it's like a blur, sometimes it's like a mishmash of colors, and sometimes, there's nothing there at all.
It doesn't matter how it plays out, the conclusion is the same.
I clench my fists, pounding against an invisible barrier, as I observe Evan maneuvering through the pounding rain, his car swerving unpredictably.
I watch in horror as his car veers dangerously, the piercing screech of his tires against the road assaulting my ears. In my nightmares, my screams pierce the silence. I scream so much that my throat feels like sandpaper, raw and irritated.
But Evan never even glances at me.
No matter how hard I try, Evan never catches a glimpse of me, desperately trying to prevent him from going.
If only I had possessed the knowledge I have now, perhaps he would still be alive and by my side. If that were the case, maybe things wouldn't be as terrible as they seem.
ChatGPT
In my nightmares, I feel my heart race as I watch his car skid to a halt, the sudden jerk of the brakes sending a shiver down my spine.
From the sidelines, I watch in anguish, tears falling freely, my emotions too overwhelming for words. I forcefully pound my fist against an intangible wall, desperate for it to give way. Time always slips through my fingers, and I never reach my destination.
I'm always stuck on the sidelines.
Helplessly, I stand there, my heart sinking, as Evan's car tumbles over, and thick smoke spirals out from under the hood, engulfing the air with the acrid smell of gasoline and burning.
With exhaustion, anger, and pain coursing through me, I can only watch as Evan, beaten and bruised and bleeding, struggles to crawl out of the car.
I know that is likely not the true version of events. Not being present, I cannot provide an accurate account of what truly happened.
I strain my imagination, but it can only offer me that much, leaving me no choice but to pretend it is the truth.
Evan painfully crawls out of the car, his body pinned under the weight of the mangled wreckage and engulfed in the acrid stench of burning fumes. The painful cries of my fiancé resonate with an intensity that even my covered ears can't escape.
And then, a few seconds later, the car is engulfed in a fiery inferno.
It always ends with a familiar sense of finality.
Sometimes, the accident happens strangely, like Evan losing his footing and abruptly skidding to a halt in the middle of the road, his car tumbling over the asphalt. Sometimes, Evan loses gas in the middle of the road, he goes out of the car and checks his watch, his car moving as he gets out, only to swerve and topple upside down. Sometimes, Evan is already under the hood of the car, the distinct scent of alcohol wafting through the air, suggesting that he may have been drinking.
The scene changes. The ending does not.
Every single time, I watch as Evan's eyes dart around aimlessly, searching for something that isn't there.
I watch, feeling foolish, as I scream my heart out, my nails digging into my skin in desperation. Instructing him to banish thoughts of me and simply await my return at home. It seems like a curse - every single time, Evan ends up in the wrong place at the wrong time. As I look on, horror-struck, the car detonates with a force that swallows Evan, sealing his fate in a nightmarish manner.
All I can do is watch, my hands tied, unable to intervene.
That's how I can separate my nightmares from my dreams.
But today, I can tell things are not the same.
I know that today, I am dreaming.
I can tell it's a dream because, for once, it isn't pouring.
I look up at the clear sky, and it feels like I'm wrapped in a cozy blanket of stars.
I am filled with awe as I take in the entire scenery, and all my worries and pain seem to vanish. The wind gently caresses my cheeks, a sensation I have never experienced before. Oftentimes, I find myself silently observing the scene as it unfolds, as if it has happened countless times before.
Everything seems to have changed today.
The question echoes in my mind, begging for an explanation: why?