The School That Wasn’t Mine

 The first time it happened, I thought it was just a dream.

I’d fallen asleep like any other night—music still playing through my earbuds, textbooks scattered across my desk, the ceiling fan spinning lazily above me. It was an ordinary evening, and I hadn’t expected anything unusual. If anything, I thought I’d wake up the same way I always did: groggy, late, and regretting everything after midnight.

But when I opened my eyes again, I wasn’t in my room.

I was standing in the middle of a hallway.

It looked like a school—but not one I recognized. The floors gleamed like polished marble, the ceilings arched higher than they should’ve, and stained-glass windows filtered in soft blue and golden light. Pillars lined the walls, etched with silver runes I couldn’t read. Everything shimmered with an unreal calm, like I’d stepped into a storybook frozen in time. The air smelled faintly of parchment and lavender wind.

And I wasn’t wearing what I’d fallen asleep in.

My hoodie and sweats were gone, replaced by a crisp white shirt with indigo trim, dark trousers, and a navy-blue coat with silver buttons. Over my heart, an embroidered emblem pulsed faintly—a ring of symbols I couldn’t place.

“What is this... cosplay week?”

The words escaped before I could stop them. But no one answered. Students passed me—laughing, talking, carrying books—wearing the same uniform. None of them seemed surprised to see me. No one even looked twice. It was like I’d always belonged.

But I hadn’t.

I wandered the hallway, unsure what to do, until I came to a door labeled 1-C. I’d never seen it before, yet something about it tugged at me—like I was supposed to be there. My hand moved on its own, sliding the door open.

Sunlight poured through the tall windows inside. Wooden desks sat in perfect rows, and specks of dust floated like gold in the air. I found myself drawn to a seat by the window. I didn’t think—I just sat. The desk felt warm, familiar. Like I’d sat there a hundred times before.

“Yo. You’re new, right?”

I turned. A boy stood beside me, leaning on the next desk. He looked my age, dark hair falling casually over one eye. His tie was loose, blazer unbuttoned. He grinned like we’d spoken a thousand times.

“I… guess so,” I said.

“You guess?” He laughed. “Weird one. You’re in the dream, same as me. You’re one of us.”

“Dream?”

Before I could ask more, a bell rang—deep and resonant, like a cathedral chime. Students flowed into the room. The teacher arrived. Without realizing it, I pulled out a notebook and started taking notes.

Everything felt... normal.

Too normal.

I couldn’t remember how I got there. I didn’t know what class it was, or what the teacher was saying, but I understood everything. My hand moved across the page, writing words I didn’t recognize but somehow knew. People laughed. Whispered. Passed notes. The light shifted as time passed.

And yet, none of it felt fake.

When the final bell rang, students stood and filed out into the hallway. I remained frozen in place. The boy from earlier lingered at the door.

“You’re still pretending you don’t know?” he asked.

“Know what?”

“That this isn’t just a dream,” he said. “It’s another world.”

I stared at him. “Another world?”

He nodded. “You can only get here when you’re asleep. I’ve been coming for weeks now. But you... you’re different.”

“How?”

“You don’t have the look of someone broken in. Most people arrive half-aware, like they’ve already lived here. You showed up like someone kicked you through the wall.” He smiled. “I’ve never seen that before.”

“Maybe I’m just dreaming.”

“That’s what I thought at first too,” he said. “But dreams don’t leave fingerprints. This place stays with you. The uniform. The air. The way the sky smells.”

I stepped into the hallway, unsure what to believe. The windows showed a lavender sky and a sun shaped more like a coin than a sphere. The light shimmered strangely across the tiles, and the world began to blur.

That feeling crept in—the shift.

The point where dreams begin to unravel.

Everything tilted, edges softening.

And then, I woke up.

---

The ceiling fan spun overhead. My phone was still playing lo-fi beats. I sat up slowly. My room looked normal. But my heart pounded like I’d just sprinted across campus.

It had to be a dream.

Right?

Then why did I still remember the warmth of the desk? The weight of the coat on my shoulders? I touched my chest. My hoodie was back—but for a moment, I swore I felt the embroidered crest brushing my fingers.

I tried to shake it off. I went through my morning like usual—brushed my teeth, got dressed, left for school. But everything felt distant.

I laughed with friends. Answered questions in class. Ate the same cafeteria food. But something inside me had shifted. Like part of me was still in that other place. Every time I passed a mirror, I half-expected to see the uniform again. Once, I could’ve sworn I saw it flicker—just for a heartbeat.

I skipped lunch and went up to the rooftop. The wind felt too quiet. The sky too plain.

When I closed my eyes, I saw the other world. The glowing halls. The windows of stained glass. The sky that never stood still.

That night, I told myself I wouldn’t sleep. I stayed up watching random videos until my eyes burned. But around 3 a.m., the screen blurred. My head dipped. Sleep claimed me before I could fight it.

---

When I opened my eyes, I was back.

The same gate towered in front of me—black iron, wrapped in silver vines. The stone courtyard shimmered beyond it under a silver sky. I took a step forward, my shoes echoing faintly across the ground.

This time, the air felt warmer. The dream didn’t fray.

And under the great silver-leafed tree in the center of the courtyard… someone stood waiting.

Not the boy from before.

Someone else.

A girl.

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

But I knew—somehow—I had been meant to meet her.

And she had been waiting a very long time.

He dreamt of a school he’d never seen. Woke up wearing memories that weren’t his. Was it just a dream—or the beginning of something deeper? If you found yourself in a world like this… would you want to wake up? —By Anurag