The mug of tea, now cold, stared at her from the kitchen table. A reminder that time doesn't stop, even when the mind refuses to move on. Maxine washed the mug, a cleansing ritual, as if she were also washing away the remnants of the dream that still disturbed her.

Determined not to be discouraged, Maxine got ready for the day. She chose a light, floral dress, a contrast to the darkness that inhabited her thoughts. She tied her hair in a ponytail and carefully applied makeup, seeking an appearance of normalcy that hid the whirlwind of emotions within her.

Taking her bag, Maxine left the apartment, the smell of the sea hitting her like a punch. The city of Layen, with its narrow streets and colorful houses, seemed strangely familiar and yet distant. She walked aimlessly, lost in her thoughts, until her feet led her to the beach.

The sea was calm, the waves breaking gently on the sand. Maxine sat on the beach, feeling the cold sand between her toes. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath of the salty air, seeking the peace that had escaped her during the night.

As she watched the waves, Maxine thought about her dream, the disturbing images that haunted her. The black paint, the dark corridor, the hooded figure... What did it all mean? Maxine stood up, shaking the sand from her clothes. The restlessness that consumed her could not be appeased by the sea breeze, nor by the melancholic beauty of the ocean.

With determined steps, she left the beach and headed towards Layen University, where she taught. The campus, usually bustling, was strangely silent, as if the fog of the night had not yet completely dissipated.

Maxine entered the Literature building, her footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. The classroom where she taught her creative writing course was dark and silent. She turned on the light, revealing the empty desks and the blackboard covered in notes.

Sitting at her desk, Maxine opened the drawer and took out a battered notebook, its pages filled with notes and sketches of stories. She leafed through the pages, seeking inspiration, but the words seemed to have lost their meaning.

Closing the notebook, Maxine leaned back in her chair, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. A sense of urgency washed over her. Maxine needed to write, needed to get out the emotions that were suffocating her. Picking up the pen, she began to write, the words flowing freely, as if they had a life of their own.

"The night brought me a macabre gift..."

Maxine wrote non-stop, the words turning into a river of fear, anguish and curiosity. She didn't know where the writing would take her, but she was willing to follow the flow, to lose herself in her own words, hoping to find some meaning in the darkness that surrounded her.

Maxine felt a gentle touch on her shoulder, like the brush of a feather. Startled, she turned and saw Anne, her best friend and colleague, standing in front of her with a gentle smile.

"Max, are you okay? You seem distant," Anne asked, her blue eyes expressing concern.

Maxine blinked, returning to reality. "Anne? What are you doing here?" she asked, confused.

Anne laughed lightly. "I came to get you for breakfast. You're so absorbed in your thoughts you didn't even see me coming."

Maxine stood up, feeling a little embarrassed for being caught so off guard. "Sorry, Anne. I... had a weird night."

Anne watched her carefully, her attentive eyes catching the tension in her shoulders and the shadow of worry on her face. "Want to talk about it?" she asked, her voice soft and welcoming.

Maxine hesitated for a moment, torn between the need to share her burden and the fear of being judged. But Anne was her best friend, the only person she truly trusted. Taking a deep breath, Maxine decided to open up.

"I had a dream... a nightmare, actually. It was so vivid, so real, that I'm still disturbed by it."

Anne led her out of the classroom, towards the small cafe on the ground floor of the building. As they walked, Maxine told Anne about the dream. Anne listened in silence, her hand squeezing Maxine's in a gesture of support.

Sitting at a table in the corner of the cafe, Anne remained silent for a moment, her eyes fixed on some distant point, as if processing the information.

"Max, do you think this dream could have any meaning?" Anne asked, finally breaking the silence.

Maxine shrugged, unsure. "I don't know, Anne. But I can't stop thinking about it. I feel like it's trying to tell me something, but I don't know what."

Anne smiled gently. "Maybe it's just a reflection of your worries and fears, Max. You've been dedicating yourself so much to writing lately, maybe your subconscious is just processing all of that."

Maxine nodded, but didn't feel convinced.