In the dream-like melody of Schumann’s piano concerto, I found myself in a dream of reality.

I walked along the hallways in my school to look for the changing room. I sat at the balcony of a restaurant that I could vaguely recall. Two girls came by and talked to me in a manner as if we had always known each other. Streaks of sunlight fell through the swaying leaves with an otherworldly dazzle, and every wave and every particle felt surreal. I walked. I sat. I slept. I drank. I ate. I thought. I felt. I lived. But I knew I was dreaming in reality and that there was a reality in my dream. It was a slightly different version of reality, almost like a parallel universe. I always knew my way around but I was never home. I recognized my friends and family but they were strange. I was living my mundane life but I wanted to escape.

Time seemed irrelevant, irregular or more accurately, nonexistent. Space appeared shrunken and linear, as if the world consisted of only one continuous street, extending endlessly in both directions. Behind me was the direction of my past, into which there was a river flowing. On the banks of the river there were rows of beautiful buildings and landscapes that were once so close to my heart. I was standing in the present. Beside me were concretes and steels that reek of loneliness and distraught. Before me was the future. I could see nothing but a blur of grey and yellow.

At one point I wanted to walk into the enchanting scenery of the past, but I lingered on the boundary between past and present and I was overcome by the desire to wake up. I did not know how much time have passed, but I felt as if I had already lived days, weeks, months, or even years in this dream. It was excruciatingly long. I told myself I had to wake up by all means, otherwise I will be forever trapped in this linear street, in this eerie absurdity, in this convoluted version of reality, in this uncanny blur of past, present and future. So I tried to lift my blanket, shout out names that came to my subconscious mind, pull on my hair hoping to wake up from the pain. I reached for my lamp, I heard the clipping sound of the switch, but it never lit up. I could see the shape of my room, my books, my shelves, but I could not utter a sound. I laid helplessly in my bed, and when daylight finally hit, I found myself still in the dream. I tried to jump off my bedroom window but I found it leading back to the exact same bedroom in the exact same apartment. I “woke up” so many times to the daylight in this dream, in this very room, on my familiar bed, but not once did I find myself back in reality. My entire being felt light, unreal and desolate. I was in the most horrifying state of despair, because I was trapped in a dream that felt like eternity.

I did not, and still do not know how I came back. I could only remember my last attempt to grab the switch of my lamp and the moment my room filled up with waves and particles of light from this world. I was soaked in sweat, my heart could hardly make another contraction from the heavy breathing. I was exhausted. I felt bodiless and soulless. I recalled the fear of eternity in my seemingly eternal dream, but at that moment I felt a sudden and everlasting fear for ephemerality in the actual eternal reality.

I went to the living room and turned on all the lights in the apartment. In this space filled with light, I was overwhelmed by another wave of fear. What are waves and particles of light from this world? If 99.99% of an atom is empty space, then aren’t we nothing but nothingness? Chemical bonds, covalent and electrostatic attractions, Van der Waal interactions, the very fundamental forces that hold us together, you and me, us and the world, aren’t they merely a result of attraction between nothingness? If we can be both alive and dead at the same time, aren’t we also both in a dream and reality? If cause and effect is no longer cause and effect, then what separates our reality from dream, and our dream from reality?

I went to school today. I walked along the hallway to look for the changing room. I sat at the cafeteria and had lunch. Two acquaintances came by and talked to me. Streaks of sunlight peaked through the windows. I was surrounded by waves and particles of light. I walked. I sat. I slept. I drank. I ate. I thought. I felt.

But I do not know if I was alive.