“You-did-what?!” I gasped, blinking rapidly. “Listen, you better explain to me what's going on, because I'm starting to freak out.” I took a deep breath, hoping that the additional context would help me better grasp the situation at hand. Hopefully I would be able to calm myself down again and just laugh at a stupid misunderstanding.

“Didn’t I? Are you not… you know… self aware?” He examined me again with his eyes, his fingers tried to come closer for a second time but he stopped them. “Giving the fact that we’re in my dream I only assumed it was my consciousness or something…”

This had to be a joke.

A weird sick joke from a weird sick dude. Despite my initial reaction of chuckling, I couldn't help but feel uneasy about the situation. I laughed in his face, but deep down, I was actually quite disturbed by what had just happened. Although the man didn't appear amused, he still smiled with a worried expression in his face.

“We are on the bus, look at everyone around us! What do you mean a dream?” I cleared my throat. “What do you mean your dream?”

And then I followed my own advice. I took a moment to really look around me, to observe the people that were surrounding us.

Some were gazing out the window, lost in thought, while others were staring blankly ahead. Despite my efforts to engage them in conversation, no one seemed to be paying attention or reacting in any way. It was as if they were all in a trance, moving like zombies or standing like mannequins. This eerie stillness made me wonder what was going on inside their heads and what kind of emotions they were experiencing. Perhaps they were simply lost in their own thoughts or preoccupied with personal problems.

Or maybe it was something more sinister, like a collective hypnosis or a mass brainwashing. I probably should stop reading so much sci-fi thrillers.

Whatever the case may be, it was clear that something was very wrong.

A chill ran down my spine.

I peered out the window, the thick fog enveloped us once again, obscuring the streetlights that appeared as mere blurry spheres in the distance. The dense mist seemed to shroud everything in a cloak of mystery, as if hiding secrets that were waiting to be uncovered. It felt surreal, too unreal. And suddenly his words started making more and more sense.

“Where the fuck am I?” I whispered, feeling sweat that was almost freezing cold run drip from my armpit. “Where does this bus go?”

I couldn’t remember when I got on the bus, nor the last time I stepped down. Every single time my mind tried to wander and remember anything else that didn’t happen on that bus, in that instant, it started fading away. I started trying to chase memory after memory, but they were too fast for me.

Gradually, his curious expression began to change into something much more disturbing. Doubt turned into a look that reflected the same fear that I felt. It was as if both of us were feeling the same sense of unease, a growing awareness of some terrible truth that we could not yet fully understand. Our eyes met, and I could see the same question in his eyes as I had in mine: what was happening, and what did it mean for us?

As we stood there, frozen in place, the silence around us only added to the sense of unease that was rapidly taking hold.

“Chiara? Chiara. Right?” He was trying so hard not to panic, just like I was. “I’m Jasper. Ok? I need you to calm down.”

I didn’t give a fuck about what he needed.

The next stop I felt a sudden urge to get off. I jolted out of my seat and ran to the front of the train, almost tripping over my own feet in the process. Despite my frantic movements, no one else on the train seemed to bat an eye.

Perhaps it was simply my own anxiety that was causing me to act this way. As I stood by the doors, waiting for them to open, I couldn't help but wonder why no one else was getting off the train. Was there something wrong with this stop? Was I making a mistake by leaving the comfort of the train? My mind raced with questions and doubts, but still the doors remained closed and not a single person stood up.

A small part of me, the stupidest part, actually thought that perhaps I wouldn’t even find a driver when I walked to the front. I wasn’t sure why my brain was actually entertaining the idea of it all being a dream. It was absolutely ridiculous.

However, to my relief and slight disappointment, the driver was indeed there, standing stoically like the rest of the passengers, lost in his own thoughts. It was as if he was a mere puppet controlled by the strings of his own mind, completely oblivious to the world around him.

But, to my relief and slight disappointment, the driver was there, sitting still like the other passengers, lost in his own thoughts. It was like he was a puppet controlled by his own mind, not paying attention to the world around him.

"Hey!" I said, trying not to show how panicked I was. "What's the next stop?"

No answer.

I tapped on the thick layer of translucent plastic that separated us, trying to get the attention of the driver on the other side. I couldn't help but feel a little anxious.

"Excuse me," I repeated, a little louder this time. "Can you tell me what the next stop is?"

Sweat poured down my face, drenching my forehead and cheeks with cold, sticky droplets. My tears mixed with the sweat, forming salty rivulets that streamed down my face.

In front of me, the bus driver sat silently, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. He gave no indication that he had heard me. It was as if I didn't even exist.

I wanted to run to the door and try to open it myself when I felt my crush’s hand wrapping around my wrist. I could feel his fingers holding me in place. My mind raced as I tried to think of a way out of this situation. Would anyone hear me if I screamed for help? What if he was an actual psycho and I had put myself in danger by entertaining his ideas? All these thoughts swirled around in my head as I stood there, paralyzed with fear.

“Hey Chiara, Chiara? It’s a dream,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes widened as he looked around. Almost felt like he was also realizing how shitty the situation was. His words started to make sense and I hated that. “I thought it was my dream specifically but…”

There we were, even though it seemed insane. There, standing in front of a bus full of inanimate automatons dressed like people, the only ones capable to react to our surroundings. I couldn’t recognize the streets that showed outside the windows, they were lackluster imitations of ones that I was barely familiar with. The signs were written in gibberish, the dark blue of the sky looked a little bit too bright.

At that moment the only thing that made sense was the stranger in front of me, still holding onto my wrist.