Between Sleep and shadow

Ava Carter never remembered her dreams-until they started remembering her.

She used to fall asleep with earbuds still playing lo-fi beats and wake up with her phone somewhere under her pillow. Her dreams, when they did happen, were blurry flashes-shadows that melted with morning light. But for the past week, sleep had become a stage, and something was waiting behind the curtain.

It started on a random Tuesday. Ava had been up late studying for a pre-calc quiz, half-listening to a podcast about true crime cases while snacking on salt and vinegar chips. Her laptop glowed beside her, Spotify still open, half a dozen tabs on math review problems, and one TikTok video paused on a DIY study tip. At exactly 3:03 AM, her phone buzzed sharply.

Groggy and disoriented, she reached for it without looking. A notification blinked on her cracked lock screen:

"UNKNOWN DREAMER DETECTED. Open link to sync."

She blinked. "What?" Her thumb hovered over the notification. No app logo. Just bold text and a tiny symbol: a crescent moon with a slash through it. A prank? Maybe Jasmine-her best friend since sixth grade-had sent her a dumb virus link as a joke. She always had a twisted sense of humor.

Ava tapped the screen. Nothing happened. The notification vanished.

She set her phone down and pulled her hoodie tighter around her body. Her room suddenly felt colder than usual, like someone had left a window open. She checked, but all the windows were locked. She even pulled back the curtains to be sure. Outside, the street was empty. Just the dim orange wash of the streetlamp on the pavement below.

She tried to laugh it off. "Weird glitch," she muttered. She crawled back into bed, pulling the blanket over her shoulders, and willed herself to sleep.

But that night, her dream wasn't normal.

She was running.

The hallway stretched endlessly ahead of her, the walls shimmering like frosted glass. With every footfall, the surface beneath her cracked, spiderwebbing like a windshield after a crash. The air was thick and silent, the kind of silence that rang in her ears. No sound of her breathing. No footsteps. Just the pressure.

And then-he appeared.

A figure at the end of the hall. Tall. Shrouded in black smoke that moved like ink in water. His face-or what should've been his face-was just a blur. No eyes. No mouth. Only static.

Behind him was a door. It pulsed faintly with a pale blue glow. Her name was carved into the wood in glowing letters.

AVA

He raised a hand-long, skeletal fingers-and pointed at her. Just as she reached the door, the hallway shattered like a mirror. And she fell.

She jolted awake, heart hammering.

It was still dark. The faint hum of her charger plugged into the wall was the only sound in the room. Her sheets were tangled tightly around her legs. She kicked them off and sat up.

And then she saw it.

Her phone was on the floor. The screen was cracked again-worse this time. But she hadn't dropped it. She was sure of that. The window behind her desk was wide open, though she remembered locking it. And on her forearm was a thin red line-fresh. A scratch.

Ava stared at it, her breath catching in her throat.

This wasn't a dream.

---

The next morning, school felt unreal.

The cafeteria's usual clatter of trays and dull conversation barely registered. Ava sat alone at the back of the lunchroom, staring blankly at her untouched bagel sandwich. She scrolled through her phone, checking her texts. Nothing new from Jasmine. Which was strange. Jasmine usually texted her random TikToks and memes before Ava even left the house.

She texted her again.

hey you good? call me. kinda freaking out.

Delivered. No reply.

Ava checked Jasmine's Snapchat. Last post: five days ago. Instagram? Silent. Ava tried calling. Straight to voicemail.

That was when she noticed the whispers.

Two girls at the next table over-Maya and Elise-were murmuring to each other.

"Her mom said she transferred," Maya whispered.

"Really? Without saying goodbye?"

"Totally ghosted everyone."

Ava's heart dropped. She stood up and walked over to them. "Wait-what do you mean transferred?"

Maya blinked, caught off guard. "Jasmine? Yeah. Her mom came to the office yesterday. Said she was moving in with her aunt in Oregon or something."

"That doesn't make sense," Ava said. "She never mentioned that."

Elise shrugged. "Guess it was sudden."

Ava sat down slowly. None of it made sense. Jasmine would've told her. They talked every day. They weren't just friends-they were practically sisters.

That night, Ava didn't sleep at all.

She curled up under her weighted blanket, scrolling forums about dreams. Reddit threads, obscure blogs, even YouTube videos by self-proclaimed lucid dreamers. She searched things like:

"dream left physical mark"

"name door dream meaning"

"static man in dream real?"

Most of it was junk. Stories about sleep paralysis demons and weird symbols. But one thread caught her eye. It was buried deep in a forum that looked like it hadn't been updated since 2009.

REM//REALITY: For those who dream deeper than most.

She clicked a thread titled:

"The Door That Knows Your Name"

The post was old-dated five years ago. But the details matched.

> I keep seeing a door in my dreams. It glows. My name's on it. I try to open it but something blocks me. Tall. Shadowy. Like it's made of TV static. I've started waking up with bruises. I don't think this is just a dream anymore.

The only reply was a username: L

> You saw the Shadow Door. Stay out of it. He's watching now.

That was all.

Ava's fingers trembled as she scrolled. She took a deep breath and clicked New Thread. She created a new account-username: DreamGirl94-and typed:

> I think I've seen the door. My best friend disappeared. I have scratches. I think something's following me. Please. Has anyone else experienced this?

She hit post.

Five minutes passed. Ten.

Then a reply appeared.

L: You saw the Shadow Door?

Her heart pounded. She typed back immediately.

Yes. Who are you? What's happening?

No answer.

She refreshed the thread.

It was gone.

The entire post-deleted.

---

That night, the dream came again.

Same hallway. Same ice-glass floor. Same door. But this time, something was different.

The static man was waiting. But beside him stood someone else.

A boy.

He looked barely older than her-maybe eighteen or nineteen. Pale skin. Silver eyes that seemed to shimmer like mercury. He wore a dark hoodie and jeans, casual but impossibly clean. He raised a hand and pointed at her.

"You're not ready yet," he said softly.

Then he turned to the door, placed a hand on it, and whispered something Ava couldn't hear.

The hallway shattered.

She woke up screaming.

Sweat drenched her pillow. Her blanket was on the floor. Her window-locked before bed-was wide open again.

And on her phone screen was a new icon.

A crescent moon with a slash through it.

Ava tapped it.

The screen flickered, then displayed a single message:

"LucidLink Installed. Welcome, Dreamweaver."

--