By mid-morning, Ethan had made his way to the library. The heavy wooden doors closed behind him with a soft thud, cutting off hallway chaos. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, illuminating dust motes drifting lazily. The smell of old paper, polished wood, and faint ink grounded him. The faint rustle of pages turned somewhere nearby made a quiet rhythm against the soft whisper of feet on the carpeted floor. He wandered through the aisles, fingertips brushing spines, pausing occasionally to inspect textures and titles. The leather on one old encyclopedia felt rough under his fingers; a shelf held a slightly warped copy of a history book, the edges fraying from frequent use. At a quiet corner, he set down his backpack and opened his notebook. Pencil moved almost automatically, sketching towers, arches, and staircases spiraling impossibly. Anna slid into the seat beside him. She didn’t start with dreams immediately. Instead, she fiddled with a bookmark and said, “I can’t believe Mr. Carter let us read whatever we want today. Usually, it’s all essays and boring stuff.” Ethan nodded. “Yeah, it’s kind of nice.” She shrugged, eyes drifting slightly. “I had the strangest dream last night… it felt so real, like it actually happened.” Ethan glanced at her. “Oh?” “I was walking through the city, but everything was… just slightly off. Streets were longer, buildings looked familiar but not quite the same, and I kept seeing people I knew doing things they wouldn’t normally do. I tried See more