Chapter 2:

I Was Dreaming Or So I Thought

I Was Isekai'd Or So I Thought

Chaper 2

My mom turns to my dad, “Wait, George”--that’s my dad’s name, further confirming my suspicion that I’m reliving the same life. “Yes, honey?” he responds. “Why isn’t he crying? Also, doesn’t he look a bit agitated right now?” Oh, right, I’m a baby. I should be crying right now. I try my best to feign tears. “Does a baby normally cry like this?” Shit, they’re not convinced.


A few days later, we left the hospital and went home. A lot of this stuff isn’t really coming naturally this time around, so I’m having to think about my actions. I tried to observe the behavior of the other babies while I was in the nursery at the hospital so I have a better sense of how to act, but it's tough to get right. Not that anything would happen if I was acting a bit odd, but I don’t want my parents to worry. I had time to think about things and I realize there’s a lot I can do with a second chance at life. That is, of course, if everything plays out the same. I wonder how much I can improve or ruin things more with my own meddling.

Anyways, the day was pretty uneventful, and I found myself drifting off to sleep multiple times when I wasn’t hungry and attempting to cry for food. Now it’s night time. I’m in my room and in my crib by myself. This is the first time I’ve been truly alone since I was reincarnated, so now might be a good time to experiment. I try pushing myself off the bed a little but with no success. My physical abilities are very limited. It will be a long time before I can even walk and it will sure be boring waiting around until then. Man, I’m kind of missing my old life right about now, but it’s not all bad; once I get past childhood, I’ll be able to make better decisions and strive towards a better outcome for myself.


About a year passes without much fuss. In that time, I’ve grown some and I’ve gained some strength and flexibility. I started crawling around 6-7 months. I don’t have a good sense for the passage of time yet, but my parents are always talking about my age, so I’ve been able to keep track that way. Also, I often sneak a peek at the calendar in the kitchen when mom carries me around. Now, at the age of 1 year, I can walk a bit, but I still stumble sometimes. Once night time rolls around, I decide to try and explore a little. I stand up and grab a hold of the bars of my crib. Okay, so far so good. I try to hoist myself up bit by bit, but it’s difficult. Hmm, my bed is springy, so maybe I can give myself a boost that way. I start bouncing on the bed and I begin to gain height, but I lose my balance and fall back down onto my bottom. I think I need to be a little less forceful since my balance isn’t great yet.

I once again grab the bars of the crib and stand up. I start bouncing on the bed more gently this time. I gain height and momentum. Alright, this is working out a little better. After a bit more trial and error, I manage to make my way to the top of the crib. I get one leg over and, oh shit, I’m having difficulty holding on. I gotta try to maneuver myself back towards my bed. Damn! I should have thought this through more. Oh fuck! I’m falling dow--

My eyes fly open. I’m breathing heavily and I’m drenched in sweat. What the hell happened? I look around. I’m in my crib and it’s morning time. Was that just a bad dream? It certainly felt very real, so I’m not sure. My mom walks in humming a tune. “Hey there, little man! Sleep well?” I suddenly get hit with déjà vu. Maybe it’s because each day is pretty much the same as a baby, but I swear she said this yesterday.

Dad walks in after her while yawning. “Ah, I got a bit of crick in my neck. Maybe I need a new pillow. Anyways, how’s my little Jeremy doing?” Again, I swear he said these exact words yesterday. What’s going on here? Mom picks me up, “Oh, you’re drenched in sweat!” Okay, I don’t remember this. She turns to dad and states, “Maybe it’s too hot in here for him.” “Alright, I’ll go turn the thermostat down a few degrees” he responds as he walks out into the hall. None of this happened yesterday, but then again, I didn’t wake up from a horrible nightmare yesterday. There’s only one way to confirm this. "Yesterday" I looked at the calendar and it was August 20th. If this is the same day, mom will cross August 19th off the calendar again.

Mom carries me out into the living room and places me in a child seat next to some ugly brown couches. She never was good at decor. She goes to the kitchen, gets some stuff out of the fridge, and sets out a few pans. After she gets breakfast cooking, he comes back out of the kitchen and into the living room. She picks me up and places me onto her shoulder and returns to the kitchen to finish cooking. “My little man is growing! It’s getting hard to carry you around with one arm!” she quips. Any moment now she’s going to walk to the calendar and I can make my confirmation. Almost like clockwork, she turns around and walks to the calendar on the side of the cabinet behind her, above the sink. I crane my neck desperately in an attempt to get a look and I see it: she crosses off August 19th. Today is August 20th, 17 days after my birthday.

Last night was not a dream.

I really did die last night, but the day repeated as a result.