He walked ahead first. I followed obediently. He walked so fast, I had to do quick sprints to catch up to him. He never looked back to see if I was behind him. He never looked back to check if I followed. He walked confidently forward, never looking back.


We sat down for a small group dinner. He sat across from me, Victoria to the side of me. His eyes smiled at Victoria, but never greeted mine. I was desperate. My eyes were screaming his name. Look at me! I wanted to shout. But it was as if he was avoiding contact.

No. Not all contact.

He stared deeply into Victoria’s eyes. I know it wasn’t to coax or flirt with her. But his eyes lit up when they spoke. He showed off his knowledge in politics and government. He spoke eloquently of social theories. He conversed academically of social work.

He wanted someone he could captivate. He wanted someone he could win over.

I wasn’t that person.

I sat on the side of the conversation in silence. I watched him dance with another mind. I watched until I couldn’t watch anymore.

I stood up. I walked away. I looked back. He had not noticed that I was missing. I could not help the tears that ran down the side of my face. I stared at the rock on my finger. I looked up at him. He was too busy putting himself on a pedestal to realize his partner had walked out on him. Too busy making himself look good for Victoria.



Disclaimer: My dreams tend to be embedded with graphic imagery (mostly sexual). Read at your own risk/pleasure.

I stepped into my dream alone. I woke up and no one was around me. This place was quiet.

I was suddenly indoors, and he was standing next to me. Wayne had jet black hair that framed his Snow White skin. He spoke with such gentle voice, I thought he might fade away.

A new friend? I thought.

“I’m going to Webster Hall this weekend,” I told him. I was careful not to invite him. I didn’t want us to feel too close. After all, I had just met him.

“Webster Hall?” He questioned. “I could get you into Gotham.”

Gotham was the city’s number one spot: a lounge, a concert venue, an entertainment center. There were performers of every level. Only the wealthy and the VVIPs could get in. A commoner like me would never be able to see the colors that paint the walls of the luxurious club.

He didn’t wait for my answer. His finger glided over the numbers on his phone and spoke quietly to the person on the other line. I couldn’t catch what he said. He then hung up, held his phone victoriously in the air and said, “All done.”

“Will you be there?” I asked, immediately realizing how childish that question seemed.

He smiled and it melted my mind. “Perhaps now I will be.”


Wayne invited me over to his house. I arrived, only to realize it was a mega-mansion. Who was this man, really?

The door was open so I let myself in. I don’t remember much. Perhaps the place was too wildly extravagant even for my imagination. I do remember a textured glass wall dividing the common area from the kitchen. Intrigued, I followed the perimeter. I made out two figures on the other side.

“Why won’t you let me care for her?” It was Wayne’s voice.

An older woman’s voice replied, “But Wayne, have you really thought about it?”

His mother.

Were they talking about me? He wants to care for me? Does he have feelings for me?

How was he so wealthy?

“I will care for her,” his voice softly echoed.

I’ve stepped into the middle of an intimate conversation. Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, I inched away as quietly from the semi-transparent wall.

Wayne turned the corner and caught me. He wore an all-black tuxedo that framed his porcelain skin even more. He looked so well groomed, so beautiful. I wanted to touch his face.

My cheeks suddenly burned from such a bold thought.


We sat next to each other. We sat so close, I thought my skin was going to burst into flames from being so close to his white hot skin. But I wanted to touch him anyway.

“It’s terminal,” he muttered under his breath.

He was dying, fast. No wonder he looked like he was going to disappear into thin air.

“Do you want to do this?”

Yes, I want it more than anything. I want you more than anything.

I was in love with him.

The End

A scroll mounted on a white wall. I touched it and it rolled open. It revealed a long knife with a purple handle. The glowing engraving read:

The end is in one month.

My own blood-curdling scream woke me up.

I dreamt of my grandmother the night before. In my dream, she was growing young. Her hair was cut short. A pixie cut. She wore my duster coat. “You look stunning 할머니,” I told her.

What will end in one month? The summer? My insomnia? Our world?

I’m afraid of what it means. I’m afraid that my prophecy dream will come true.

I Died

I had a dream.

I had a dream that I was looking at Dennis and he was staring back at me. I smiled and he smiled back. The sun was shining down on us and the summer air smelled sweet.

Time was slow.

Then a little slower.

I noticed a police officer behind Dennis speed walking towards me. He reached for the gun to his side as he looked at a distance behind me. His eyes widened.

S l o w e r .

Dennis looked over my shoulder. He dropped his smile. His hand quivered over my body, trying to cover me. I thought I saw a sweat drip off the tip of his nose.

S  l  o  w  e  r  .

I looked over his shoulder at the police officer. His hands were already wrapped around his gun. He pointed to a target behind me and yelled something I could not understand. Slowly, ever so slowly, I turned my head to w a t c h  t h e  b  u  l  l  e  t   f  l   y   .

I heard a loud crack over my head. I felt a shocking sensation running down my spine. Then, nothing at all. I opened my mouth to scream, but could only scream of silence. Everything went to black and I opened my eyes to the dawn of my room.

This is not the first time I’ve experienced my own death in a dream. I die every year. I have drowned at sea. I have fallen off a waterfall. Asphyxiation. Loss of blood.

I am an existentialist romantic. I can’t stop thinking about all the romantic ways Death will sweep me off my feet.

This will surely be my demise.


It was night in Seattle.

The skies illuminated against the structured city lights. Buildings grew taller as I inched closer to the window. I took in the floor-to-ceiling view from the penthouse. I breathed on the glass and watched the paradise fog up before my eyes. The sight made my heart skip a beat.

The streets looked so new compared to what I had back home. The air smelled mintier. The mountains stood more prosperous. Even the stars seemed to sing louder.

I love it here, I whispered to the moon.

I looked to my left, over my shoulder. There he was, standing tall with his jet black jacket fading into the dark of the night. I approached him shyly.

I love it here.

He turned slightly and stopped, as if to show off his chiseled jawline. “Do you want to move here with your family?”

Yes, I love it here.

Making the Same Mistakes on Repeat

He and I decided to separate and stay single for a week or two. We wanted to focus on ourselves for a bit. We promised to not let anyone else into our lives for that time being. This was a time to grow, to expand, and to become better for one another by focusing on our own goals and ambitions.

It was a bright moment. I had plans to build on my future career path, to spend time with family, to clean up my mind and my life.

I was inspired.

But then I saw him. My plans fell through. I fell backwards. I fell into darkness. My goals and ambition disappeared. I lost all self control.

He asked if I wanted to go with him.

To where? I asked.

Anywere you want, he coaxed.

I said, yes.

I let him take me by the hand. I let him hold my body. I let him kiss my lips.

I suddenly remembered the promise I made to Him. The promise to not let anyone else in my life. The promise to better myself for myself, by myself. Guilt ran over my body and I felt weak for not being able to stick to my words. For not being able to put into action the phrase I whispered to him so often: I love you.

When He asked if I was able to better myself, I lied and told him yes. When he asekd if there was anyone else involved in my life, I lied and told him no. I was stuck in a loop of the past, making the same mistakes over and over and over.

How do I step off of this nightmare?

The Sun Sets in Manhattan: Midnight

Disclaimer: My dreams tend to have graphic imagery.

With my gift and ability to fly, I stay afloat just inches over the dark street. He is already on the ground, his feet clicking a thuk each time his heel touches the wet concrete floor. What a strange sound walking made.

“Come. Land next to me,” he suggests.

I stay in the air. I am comfortable here.

“Land,” he raises his voice.

I am taken back. Now I really want to stay in the air. He had never raised his voice before. His face becomes twisted. Anger seeps into his eyes.

“Why won’t you land? What’s wrong with you? Land!” His patience was running thin. I fly away from the man who used to be my savior.

The open air is my safe haven. 

I almost do not notice the shadows walking out from behind buildings. One group dons red bandanas. The other proudly wears poisonous yellow. Infamous gang members on the Upper East Side. More men from opposing gangs crawl out from the shadows and crevices. I stay afloat to study my suroundings.

A bullet flies by me. I then realize – this was a gang war.

I do not hesitate. I immediately dart into the sky, safe and out of reach from the crossfire. I beckon him to follow, to fly with me, to run away from being in the middle of a turf war. But he would not ascend.

Bullets fly in every direction and echoes ring inside my head. I desperately eye him, waiting for him to make eye contact, to join me in the sky. But he does not. Instead, he begins flailing his arms like a rag doll, shooting up the men around him with a large machine gun. His eyes glow red. Body parts could be seen flying to pieces, blood pooling on the ground.

Bullets pierce his body open. Yet, he continues standing, screaming at me. “Why won’t you land? You won’t land even when I’m being shot at? Come and save me!” There is a menacing look in his eyes.

I am shaking in midair. I do not land. All I hear are bullets. All I see is blood. All I feel is coldness of the night.

A red-headed woman flies into my vision out of nowhere and snaps me into reality.

“He’s a shapeshifter,” she explains. “You have been tricked. But thank the heavens you’re all right. We must get out of here.”

She tugs my hand, ever so gently.

I look at the creature that resembles my savior.

“He may be able to change his appearance, but he cannot fly like the rest of us.”

I swallow my fear. We fly out of the warzone.


Part I: Sunset

Part III: Dawn