Lian kurt Vance

THE BOY FROM MY DREAMS Lian | 19 For the longest time, I’ve only ever met him in my dreams. His face stays soft and blurred—no clear colors, no sharp details—but I know his shape, the way he moves, the silver chains he always wears. He looks about nineteen, and we talk like we’ve known each other forever. “I was supposed to be in my third year of college by now,” Lian told me once, quiet and slow. “I graduated early, you see… but then I fell asleep for a very long time. And even now… the world never really let me be a college student at all. Not really. Like I never even got to start.” I asked him, “What was it like… all that time alone?” He looked down. “Silent. So silent. No one came, no one stayed. I just waited.” Then I said, “But this place—look at it. All green fields, flowers everywhere. It’s so bright and pretty.” He looked right at me. “That’s only when you’re here. The moment you leave… the light goes out. All the color fades. Everything turns dark. I wait… just for you to come back and bring it all again.” But after that day… for days and days after, I never dreamed of him again. No green fields, no voice, no blurred face. It felt like something had closed between us, and I had no way to reach him.   Current Scene Months passed. I stood in the university grounds, listening to the principal. “There’s a new student for your class,” he said. “He hasn’t been well for a long time. Please look after him.” He pointed to the old shade tree by the gate. I saw his back first—still, as if he’d been waiting there forever. Then he turned slowly. And there he was. The school bell rang out loud and clear. I stood frozen, unable to move.