Writers 
I had always believed that dreams were just dreams.
Sometimes they were strange.
Sometimes they were beautiful.
Sometimes they were so frightening that you woke up wishing you could forget every second of them.
But dreams were never supposed to follow you into your waking life.
At least, that was what I believed.
Until I started dreaming about him.
The first time I saw the stranger, I didn't think much of it.
I was standing in the middle of a long, empty street.
I didn't know where I was.
The road seemed to stretch forever, disappearing into a thick mist that covered everything in the distance. There were tall buildings on both sides of the street, but their windows were dark. Not a single light came from them.
There were no cars.
No people.
Not even birds.
The silence was so complete that I could hear my own breathing.
I looked down at myself.
I was wearing the same clothes I had gone to school in that day.
That made me even more confused.
"Where am I?" I whispered.
My voice echoed through the empty street.
Then I heard footsteps.
Slow.
Quiet.
Coming from somewhere ahead of me.
I immediately stopped moving.
The footsteps stopped too.
I looked toward the end of the road.
Someone was standing there.
A boy.
Or at least, I thought he was a boy.
He was standing with his back toward me, wearing a dark jacket. His hands were in his pockets, and his head was slightly lowered.
I couldn't see his face.
"Hello?" I called.
He didn't answer.
I took one careful step forward.
He remained still.
Another step.
Nothing.
I swallowed nervously.
"Who are you?"
For a few seconds, there was complete silence.
Then he spoke.
His voice was quiet.
Almost like a whisper.
But somehow, I heard every word clearly.
"Don't forget me."
I froze.
"What?"
He didn't move.
"Don't forget me."
I tried to get closer.
"Wait!"
The moment I ran toward him, everything changed.
The street disappeared.
The buildings disappeared.
The stranger disappeared.
And I woke up.
I sat upright in my bed, breathing heavily.
My room was dark.
For a few seconds, I couldn't remember where I was.
Then I looked around.
My desk was beside the window.
My school bag was on the floor.
My curtains were slightly open.
Everything was normal.
Just a dream.
I rubbed my eyes and looked at the clock.
3:17 a.m.
"Seriously?" I whispered.
I fell back onto my pillow.
I tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn't.
That sentence kept repeating inside my head.
Don't forget me.
I didn't even know the stranger.
So why would he ask me not to forget him?
The next morning, I told myself it meant nothing.
Dreams were strange.
People dreamed about things they had seen, heard, or thought about during the day.
Maybe I had seen someone wearing a dark jacket.
Maybe my brain had simply created a random person.
There was nothing mysterious about it.
At least, that's what I told myself.
Until the next night.
The same street.
The same mist.
The same silence.
And the same stranger.
This time, I knew exactly where I was.
I looked down the road.
He was already waiting.
I didn't speak.
Neither did he.
I simply stared at him.
After a few seconds, he raised his head.
"You're back," he said.
I felt a chill run through me.
"You know me?"
He didn't answer.
"Who are you?"
He slowly turned his head, but before I could see his face, the dream ended.
I woke up again.
3:17 a.m.
Exactly the same time.
I stared at the clock.
My heart began beating faster.
"No way."
I grabbed my phone from the bedside table.
3:17.
I checked the date.
It was the next day.
I stared at the screen for several seconds.
Then I laughed nervously.
"Okay. That's creepy."
I didn't tell anyone.
Not my mother.
Not my friends.
Not even my best friend, Aisha.
I didn't know why.
Maybe I was embarrassed.
Maybe I was afraid they would laugh at me.
Or maybe some part of me already knew that something was wrong.
The dreams continued.
Every night.
The street.
The mist.
The stranger.
And the same sentence.
Don't forget me.
But as the nights passed, the dreams became longer.
The stranger started walking.
Sometimes he stood beneath a broken streetlight.
Sometimes he stood beside an old building.
Once, he was sitting on a bench with his head in his hands.
But he never showed me his face.
And every time I tried to get closer, I woke up.
Then, on the seventh night, something happened that changed everything.
I was standing on the familiar street again.
But this time, there was something different.
A red door stood beside me.
I had never seen it before.
It was attached to a small brick building that hadn't existed in my previous dreams.
I walked toward it.
There was a piece of paper taped to the door.
My name was written on it.
I stared at it.
Nurr.
My heart dropped.
"How does this dream know my name?"
I reached for the paper.
Before my fingers touched it, I heard the stranger behind me.
"Don't open it."
I turned around.
He was standing only a few metres away.
For the first time, I noticed something I'd never noticed before.
He looked frightened.
Not mysterious.
Not threatening.
Frightened.
"Who are you?" I demanded.
He took a step toward me.
"I need you to listen."
"Listen to what?"
"You're not supposed to be here."
I frowned.
"Here where?"
He looked toward the red door.
"You're getting too close."
"Too close to what?"
He didn't answer.
I stepped toward him.
"Show me your face."
He remained silent.
"Please."
He slowly lifted his head.
For the first time, I saw his eyes.
And there was something painfully familiar about them.
I stared at him.
I knew those eyes.
I just didn't know from where.
"Who are you?" I whispered.
He opened his mouth.
But before he could answer, I woke up.
I jumped out of bed.
My hands were shaking.
I looked around my room.
Everything was normal.
Then I noticed something on my desk.
A piece of paper.
I hadn't put it there.
Slowly, I walked toward it.
My heart began pounding.
There was only one sentence written on it.
DON'T OPEN THE RED DOOR.
I stared at the words.
Then I looked at my bedroom door.
For the first time, I wondered if I was actually awake.
Because if this was a dream...
Why was the paper real?
And if the paper was real...
Then who was the stranger?
And why did he know my name?We can continue from here and make the mystery much deeper, with Nurr discovering who the stranger is little by little instead of revealing it too quickly.
To be continued......