LONG SLEEP

It all feels like a dream—like I am in a long, deep sleep, trapped in a reality I once wished for so desperately. I was naive enough to believe it was all rainbows and sunshine, forgetting that rain inevitably follows the light.

It all feels like a dream—like I am in a long, deep sleep, trapped in a reality I once wished for so desperately. I was naive enough to believe it was all rainbows and sunshine, forgetting that rain inevitably follows the light.

I have always wanted someone to love me the way I love others. Someone to simply ask how my day is going, or to send me a picture of their day without me having to ask. I used to believe love was meant to be that quiet. You don't ask for it, you don't demand it, but it's always there—the quiet, peaceful comfort of being loved by someone special. Growing up, I never felt loved or cared for in the way I thought a child should be. I still don't fully know what it feels like to be properly loved, but this experience was the closest I had ever come.

Then, I fell in love with a dream.

Her name was Karmabell. It was unique and special, but she preferred to go by Karma. I would often joke that she might be Lady Karma herself. Karma was deeply loved and well-cared for. She was constantly reminded of her worth, receiving hugs when she needed them and kisses when she was sad. She knew how to receive love, and because of that, she knew how to give it effortlessly. I imagine her world was made of pure sunshine and butterflies; she was blessed to live in a reality where she never had to feel alone. The love within her was bright enough to outshine the darkness of this cold world, so she poured it out onto everyone—her family, her friends, and strangers who moved her. She had more than enough to go around.

And I was lucky enough to be one of the few people she chose to shine her light on.

The very first time we chatted, she sent a beautiful short message just to tell me she loved who I was, asking me to promise I would always stay true to myself. It was the first time in my life someone didn't try to change my personality, but actually appreciated it.

Karma’s love reached me—a random person on her social feed. Her inbox message was so intriguing it made me smile for days. Who is this person, and how is she so full of love?

We talked endlessly, calling day and night, jumping from one random topic to the next. The conversation flowed like a river, and slowly, I fell into an illusion. Without realizing it, I began living out my deepest wish: the dream of being loved and cared for. Karma poured just the right amount of affection into me to make me feel weightless. I spent my days wondering what it felt like to be so full of love that you could willingly pour it into a stranger you met a week ago.

This was all brand new to me. My real name is Favour, but this was the first time in my life I actually felt favored. My dream had come true, and it was better than I could have imagined. I grew comfortable in it. I made it my reality, foolishly believing Karma would always have enough love reserved just for me. I believed I could keep her affection all to myself forever—and for a while, she made me believe it, too.

Until reality began to crack.

The fractures became too clear to ignore. I couldn't stop the sun from rising in the north just because I wanted it to stay with me in the east. Karma slowly started ignoring my calls, offering busy excuses. And she was busy—busy with others who needed the light of her love more than I did. I couldn't accept it. I couldn't handle the fact that she was never mine to keep. I wanted my dream to stay unchanged, but Karma had a purpose long before she entered my life. She had to be where she was needed most, and that place was no longer with me.

Karma slowly drifted out of my life, but she never left my mind.

I remained trapped in the dream long after her light faded to occasional visits. I was stuck in the illusion of being loved, unable to wake myself up. My mind convinced me I could hold onto her forever, and in doing so, turned my dream into a living nightmare. Days and nights crashed over me. I lost the little self-satisfaction I once possessed, surrendering my peace to Karma in the hope that she would feed my soul forever.

Yet, living in that nightmare revealed something powerful: if my mind could create such a vivid dream, it could create a better one. A new dream. One that contained everything I was actually searching for. I had seen the flaws in the illusion, and now I knew what to look for.

Still, I lay in that space all alone. Days blurred into weeks, and I began to lose my grip on time itself. The only thing I had left to hold onto was myself and the hope of a better future.

To give my soul space to grieve a loss I never truly possessed, I played a slow, sad song. I knew every lyric by heart and understood the weight of its sorrow all too well. I played it on repeat, sinking into the sadness, hoping against hope that she would return to turn my nightmare back into a dream.

As the music looped, my thoughts drifted away from Karma and onto my own life. How did I get here? How did I allow myself to sink this low? I used to be such a happy kid.

Right at that moment, the music carried me back in time. I remembered a memory of my younger self dancing to this exact same sad song. Back then, I didn't understand the heartbreaking words. I just danced. I jumped to the rhythm, my heart bouncing with the beat, completely free.

In the middle of my grief, I smiled.

It was a genuine, beautiful smile—one I thought I had lost forever in the nightmare. I smiled at the memory of that happy child dancing to a song I was now weeping over. When the track ended, I came back to reality, but something had shifted. I felt lighter having reconnected with that memory.

So, I played the song again.

Once more, the image of my younger self appeared in my mind, almost as if he were extending a hand, asking me to join him. I smiled and whispered, "I'm not a good dancer."

My younger self replied, "I know. We were never good dancers—but we were happy dancers. We danced to everything. Will you dance with me?"

Just then, the energetic chorus kicked in. I couldn't resist. I stood up and danced. I danced like I was nine years old again, moving wildly to a depressing track. I danced until I couldn't feel the weight on my face, barely noticing the tears rolling down my cheeks. I danced with my younger self, and he reminded me of everything I had been missing.

Now, I don't spend my days waiting for hope or mourning someone who was never mine to keep. I no longer live in a dream turned nightmare, praying for someone else to rescue me. Instead, I appreciate Karma’s presence whenever it happens, grateful for the moments she can share.

I live with real joy now, because I finally found myself.

I reconnected with a part of me I thought was gone forever. Every day, that little boy comes back to dance with me, reminding me of the steps I forgot I knew.

I am living in a new dream now. I no longer dream of meeting someone else to fill the empty spaces in my heart. I dream of being truly, deeply happy on my own. I dream of being whole—realizing I needed me more than I ever needed anyone else.

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