It's 4 AM. Mac wakes up abruptly—the third night in a row. Another bizarre dream. He reaches for his phone, scrambling to document it before the details fade. This time, he remembers visiting an ancient ruin. Inside, he saw well-preserved fossils, so lifelike they looked frozen in time. One, in particular, caught his attention—a fossilized ape perched atop a tree, its fur shimmering in shades of brown and emerald red. The entrance to the ruin was littered with gems and tools, hinting that someone—something—had once lived there, perhaps thousands or even millions of years ago.

Mac finishes writing. It's now 4:45 AM, but he can't shake the hyper-reality of his dreams. He tries to go back to sleep, but his body is buzzing—a strange vibration, as if his soul is struggling to merge back with his body after a long journey apart. Eventually, exhaustion wins, and he drifts off.

At 8 AM, he's jolted awake again. His roommate, Balmain, stands over him, shaking his shoulder.

"Time for class, bro."

Mac groans. He hates being woken up. Sleep is the only place where he finds true comfort. After three more sluggish rolls in bed, he finally gets up and prepares for another day of total madness—a day that feels so repetitive it's like a loop.