Chapter Three: A Piece of Puzzle

Cara was back in reality, sitting at her usual desk in the classroom. The mundane noise of chatter and the rhythmic tapping of pens on paper filled the air around her, but her mind remained far away. It was just a dream, she repeated to herself, her eyes unfocused as she stared at the blank notebook in front of her. A dream isn’t real. She clung to the mantra, trying to calm the rapid beats of her heart. She had to move on. She couldn’t let herself keep obsessing over it. She had to believe it was nothing more than a figment of her imagination, an illusion created by her mind. And yet, despite her reassurances, the image of the man from her dream still lingered, vivid and unsettling.

At lunch, she sat in her usual spot in the cafeteria, absentmindedly stirring her food. The noise around her felt muffled, her thoughts scattered. That’s when Jean slid into the seat across from her, snapping her out of her reverie.

“Hey, dear! What’s up?” Jean greeted her with a bright smile, not noticing the weight of the world pressing down on her friend’s shoulders.

“It’s still the same... but not exactly. I met the face of the man in my dream yesterday. I've never seen him in real life, but his face felt familiar. He told me in the dream that he was the boy I met when I was younger. And unbelievably, he grew up in my dream.” Cara shared, trying to keep the unease from her voice.

Jean’s response was immediate: “I think you’re crazy.”

Cara frowned. “No, I’m not. Think about it. I thought you were supposed to be a genius. How can you not get it?”

Jean raised an eyebrow. “Wait, let me guess. You think you’re going to find the man from your dream here, in reality, because he looks familiar? Are you out of your mind?”

“I’m serious!” Cara insisted, but her frustration softened as Jean continued.

“I get it now. You’re thinking he must have existed in your childhood. But if that's the case, why don’t you remember anything about him in your waking life?” Jean paused, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “Let’s analyze it. You need to piece together the fragments from your dream. Maybe there’s something in your memory that’s been lost...”

Cara stared at her friend. Jean was right; throughout her life, she had been haunted by the face of that boy. She never thought to search for him until now, when his image had grown into that of a man. But could it really be him? What if her mind simply invented this person? And why couldn't she remember anything about meeting him in real life?

Before she could voice her confusion, Jean seemed to read her thoughts.

“You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you? Cara, your childhood was perfectly normal. Mom always looked out for you,” Jean said, her voice turning serious. “So, I don’t know why you’re fixating on the idea that this boy in your dream was someone real.”

Cara’s suspicion grew. Was Jean hiding something? She studied her best friend’s face, but Jean quickly averted her gaze. Cara had questions, but for now, she decided not to ask.

Jean’s voice broke through her thoughts. “You should forget this, Cara. It’ll drive you crazy if you keep insisting that the boy in your dream actually existed.”

Cara hesitated. Her mother and Jean had always told her the same thing: the boy in her dream must have been someone she’d encountered in her childhood. But now, Jean was backing away from the puzzle they’d both been trying to solve. Why was Jean suddenly so reluctant to help? Something felt off, but Cara couldn't pinpoint what.

That night, her mind replayed the conversation with Jean. She was left with one question: If the boy in her dream was real, why couldn't she remember meeting him?

As the evening wore on, Cara collapsed onto the couch, trying to relax after the chaos of school.

Later that night, in her dream...

"Hey, Cara! You're here again. Want to play with me, like old times? Do you remember this?" A man greeted her as he sat on a seesaw in a familiar playground.

Cara told herself she was no longer a child, but seeing this grown man playing in the same way they had when they were young felt oddly nostalgic. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to join him. She walked over and sat on the other side.

He grinned at her, and she felt her cheeks flush. With a playful motion, he pushed the seesaw down, and Cara couldn’t help but feel a rush of happiness. The wind kissed her cheeks, and for a moment, the stress of her waking life seemed to fade.

"Are you happy?" he asked, eyes gleaming. "Before you leave, I have something for you."

Cara raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"It’s a secret. You’ll know soon enough," he replied, a mysterious smile tugging at his lips.

“Can I ask you something... personal?” Cara hesitated, a sudden feeling of vulnerability washing over her.

"Go ahead." He responded, as casually as ever.

"Where do you live? Do you have a family? It’s unfair, you know. I don’t even know your name."

He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Everyone has a family. As for me, I live in this world. Life... it’s unpredictable, you know? I’ll tell you my name when you remember me.”

Her heart raced. “What do you mean by that?”

He shrugged, his expression unreadable. "Life is full of mysteries. You’ll figure it out."

“Stop making me feel like a psycho,” she muttered under her breath. “If you won’t tell me your name, I’ll just give you one.”

He chuckled softly. “Call me whatever you want. I don’t mind.”

She gazed into his eyes, desperate for answers, but they only deepened her confusion. What was he hiding? What did he mean?

"Next time, I'll have a name for you," she said, standing up. She wanted to leave him with something, but as she turned to go, she felt the weight of his words linger.

And just as she was about to walk away... he kissed her.

Cara’s breath caught in her throat as she suddenly woke up, heart pounding. The kiss was vivid, unforgettable, and the sensation still lingered on her lips.