Another dream happened—I was gasping, breath ragged, each inhale a battle, as though the air itself was slipping from my lungs.
A nurse appeared—soft-eyed and calm—pressing a mask to my face. In a heartbeat, the world steadied. I breathed again.
Then came the ride—a journey with my family, the road rising and breaking beneath the wheels like waves. We soared, then fell—metal meeting earth in a shuddering crash.
Amid the wreckage, my mother knelt beside me, her tears falling like rain on a scorched field.
“You’ll have a better life, we'll move somewhere else,” she whispered, as the light dimmed, but I already faded like dusk into night.











