Angelo stood in the middle of an empty street. The world around him was silent, frozen in time. The sky was a color he couldn't name, shifting between deep blues and purples like an oil spill. The buildings around him were distorted, stretching and twisting like they were being pulled by invisible hands.

He exhaled, watching his breath form solid shapes before dissolving into the air.

This wasn't reality.

But it felt familiar.

He turned, and there they were—two figures standing at a distance. One was bathed in light, the other cloaked in shadows. Neither had a face, yet he knew they were watching him.

"You are waking up."

The voice wasn't his, but it came from within him.

Angelo took a step forward. His foot didn't touch the ground—it hovered, weightless.

"Do you remember?"

He didn't answer. He didn't know what to say.

The figure of light reached out a hand. The figure of darkness stepped back.

Angelo felt an ache in his chest.

"Who are you?"

Neither answered.

The scene shifted.

---

He was a child now—no older than three.

Nancy was holding him, whispering something he couldn't hear. She looked younger, her face softer, yet there was sadness in her eyes.

She wasn't his real mother.

But she had been the one to raise him.

The memory blurred.

Now he was sitting in a car, watching the rain fall against the window. His father, Edward, was driving. Gift was in the backseat, giggling about something.

His father's face was unreadable.

Why does this feel like goodbye?

---

The world twisted again.

Angelo was older now—six, maybe seven.

He was standing outside a house, staring at a suitcase.

Nancy was leaving.

She knelt in front of him, brushing his hair back. "Be good, okay?"

He didn't answer.

The memory shattered before he could process it.

---

Now he was standing in front of a door. He recognized it.

It was from his dream.

The one he kept forgetting.

Slowly, he reached for the handle.

A hand grabbed his wrist.

"You are not ready."

The voice was his.

But it wasn't him.

The world collapsed into darkness.

And then—

He woke up.

---

Angelo gasped, sitting up in bed, drenched in sweat. His heart was pounding.

His room was normal. Nothing was out of place.

But he knew—

Something was missing.

Something he had forgotten.

He clenched his fists.

He needed to remember.