Neol emerged from the bathroom, his wet footsteps leading him to the dressing table. After drying his hair, he settled next to his peacefully sleeping wife, Linda. Not used to her early bedtime, Neol pondered for a moment before succumbing to slumber.
In the depths of his dreams, darkness enveloped him.
“Hey!”
He echoed. Under his feet, hands grasped him, and pain pierced his senses. Suddenly, a beam of light cut through the darkness, revealing humans rushing and fighting towards vans while drivers watched with poker faces and sped away once the vans were full.
Perplexed by the scene, a watchman appeared. As if reading Neol’s thoughts, he explained, “The van symbolizes life’s return. That is the last van. Once it leaves, a vast abyss will emerge, swallowing the rest, and you people won’t wake up to life anymore.” He disappeared.
Fear gripped Neol as he witnessed people desperately scrambling for the van, with only two seats left. “No!” Neol screamed, his mouth opening like the bulldog. “Get the hell off him!” His voice resonated with desperation.
Summoning every ounce of strength, he fought against the hands holding his legs, determined to break free. Gripping their hands, he peeled them off, stepping forward despite being dragged. Neol found a running man to hold onto, and as the man fell to the beast, Neol was free.
He scrambled towards the van. A woman, who had fought her entire life for the last seat, was abruptly jerked by Neol. The door slammed shut before her eyes, and a colossal abyss swallowed the remnants left as the van sped away.
Neol’s eyes snapped open, meeting his wife’s concerned gaze.
“Are you alright, Neol?” Linda asked.
Did he wake up to life? Neol wondered, looking at his wife.
In the depth of sleep, wherew weave their mysteries and reality fades, we confront the abyss between wakening and dreaming. In the struggling for life’s fleeting seat, we glimpse the fragility of existence. And upon awakening, we ponder whether we emerge from the darkness or drifted deeper into its embrace.Â
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