Dreams

The Jump Through Light

A dream about trust, power, and crossing impossible boundaries.

She didn’t trust me at first. Not fully. But she stayed. That was enough.

I brought her aboard a ship that wasn’t supposed to exist — a vessel built from precision, silence, and something deeper than technology.

It didn’t feel mechanical. It felt aware.

She looked around, eyes wide, trying to understand why everything here felt impossible and natural at the same time.

We approached a terminal that responded to presence more than touch. I asked for coffee. Two cups formed out of nothing — not printed, not poured, just there.

She laughed. Not because it was funny. Because it broke something she thought was real.

“Come,” I told her. “There’s more.”

We moved deeper. To the core.

At the center of the ship was something alive with energy — not fire, not electricity, but something contained and endless. Light folded into itself. Power without limit.

She hesitated.

That was the real moment. Not the ship. Not the impossible machines. Trust.

We jumped straight into the core.

For a second, there was nothing. No body. No sound. Just existence collapsing into light.

Then I gave the command for emergency return.

And just like that, we were standing somewhere else — above everything, in the command center, like we had always belonged there.

She looked at me differently now. Not curious. Not uncertain. Certain.

She stepped closer. Smiled. Kissed me. Held me.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the ship. Not the power. Not the impossible jump. Just that she trusted me.

Then I woke up.

The Moment Before Words

A dream about connection that happens before explanation.

It wasn’t loud. Not really. The music was there. The lights were moving. People were talking, laughing, drifting through each other like separate worlds pretending to touch.

Someone approached me. “That one over there told me she likes you.”

I didn’t react much. Just nodded. “Okay. Thanks for telling me that.”

I moved through the disco club. Not rushing. Not thinking too much about it. Just moving.

I saw her. Before I could even say anything, she stood up.

I hugged her. Nothing more. Just a hug.

And something settled. Like two things that were supposed to align finally did.

She looked at me and asked, “Why are you so good, Sasha?”

I didn’t think about the answer. “I don’t know. That’s just in my nature.”

We stayed there for a while. Talking. Not talking. Somewhere between kisses and hugging and cuddling, the night became soft.

Then at some point, she was gone.

I went to grab a cola. “Where is she?” I asked.

Her friend told me she went home.

And then I woke up.

Ana — The Years That Fought

Yesterday I wrote a song for Ana, my ex-girlfriend from teenage days. Today, sleep answered with her face.

I did not enter the dream through thunder or spectacle.

I entered it through memory.

Through the strange silence that comes after writing a song for someone who once belonged to your life so completely that even years later, one melody can still open a door.

And behind that door, there she was.

Ana.

Not as a photograph. Not as a thought.

Present. Real in the way dreams make people real — with all the old weight around them, but none of the old noise.

She looked at me calmly, like she had been waiting somewhere between yesterday's song and today's sleep.

The words were simple, but they did not feel small.

They landed like something that had been traveling for years.

We talked. Not like teenagers. Not like two people ready to defend every wound before the other one could touch it.

We talked slower now.

Older.

As if time had finally given both of us the room we never had back then.

Then she said the truth without cruelty.

I felt the sentence open the past.

Not to punish it.

To look at it.

I answered before doubt could dress itself as logic.

That was all I had.

Not a perfect explanation. Not a promise that nothing would ever hurt again.

Just the quiet truth that we were no longer those same two people burning through each other with teenage fire.

The dream softened after that.

Conversation became closeness.

Closeness became silence.

We kissed.

Not like a victory.

Not like proof.

Like two unfinished sentences finally touching the same page.

After that, memory becomes blurred.

Maybe we went further. Maybe the dream only wanted me to remember the feeling, not the details.

Some scenes dissolved before I could bring them back with me.

Her mother was there too.

And she was not pleased with me.

That part carried its own old weather — judgment, disapproval, the feeling of standing near a door that someone else did not want opened again.

But Ana was cool.

Calm.

Present.

Not fighting the dream. Not fighting me.

For a brief moment, it felt like the past had returned without its knives.

Same names.

Same history.

Different souls.

And maybe that was the whole question hidden inside the dream:

I did not get the answer.

The dream did what dreams do.

It gave me the scene, the kiss, the question — and then took the room away.

I woke up with the song still behind me.

And Ana already gone again.

Dream 11

A dream cluster tied to Eleven, to what I saw in her, and to what stayed with me after waking.

1. What Do You See in Me?

I had been rewatching Stranger Things, and I really like Eleven as a character. The night after watching an episode, I had a dream.

In the dream, Eleven was standing near my ex’s house, and she just asked me, “What do you see in me?”

And I told her exactly what I see in her.

I see her brilliance that gets me free.

I see her sword that shines with light.

Whenever she drops, she gets up.

I see her beauty, but not just in skin. I see deeply within.

Then I took a car and drove it, and she stood in the middle of the road, and I had to avoid killing her.

I snapped around and kicked the other car or hers.

And she said, “What the fuck, you ruined my car. You should have killed me.”

This is a dream.

And I woke up.

But even after I woke up, she was just smiling in that vivid dream-feeling, and I was closing my eyes because I wanted to stay more inside that dream.

2. The Roll Above Sixteen

Another dream took place in the same strange current. Mike and the gang were playing Dungeons & Dragons. Elle had just broken up with him, and she said, “Roll above 16 and we get back together.”

He rolled low. Two or three. Something small, with multiple dice.

She laughed.

And then he just said, “Fuck it,” and kissed her.

Then I woke up.

3. Through the Woods

In another dream, we were going through the woods, me and Eleven, and we spotted a helicopter shining light on us.

She pulled up her hand, combusted the helicopter into one singular point, and bled through the nose.

Then she said, “Don’t worry. No one’s going to catch us.”

And then I woke up.

4. The Night That Didn’t Break Her

Another time, we were hanging out, friendly, nothing special, and we came to a disco club.

Some guys offered the drinks. I was watching from behind and I saw they put something in the drink.

I was afraid that she would get roofied — Elle and the other girls that were with her.

And suddenly they fell asleep and the guys started putting hands on them.

I moved — and Elle suddenly woke up and just pushed her hand forward.

The guys bounced into the wall and died.

She had her Stranger Things powers. She bled through her nose, woke up fully, and smiled.

So whatever they put in the drink didn’t affect her.

Jack, Castiel, and the Mirror Circle

A dream that came after grief, after the ending, and after sleep turned emotion into vision.

I had seen the last episode of Supernatural about a year ago or so. I cried through all of the episodes, and afterwards I went to sleep.

My brain produced a quality vivid dream.

Jack was appearing in nothing, talking to the girl called Nothing, saying: release Castiel or make you sleep forever.

Castiel was struggling inside his head, punching mirrors, never escaping through the mirror circle, watching himself in mirrors, with thousands of Castiels surrounding him.

He kept hitting, kept turning, kept seeing only himself reflected back from every direction.

Then suddenly he was released.

Empty went to sleep.

And Jack and Castiel moved to fix heaven.

Then I woke up.

Knowing When Not To

No light. No thunder. No spectacle. Just presence.

Alex stood still. No aura, no spectacle—just presence.

Jack watched him, trying to understand something too big to name.

Silence settled between them—not empty, but full.

Jack looked down. “Everyone expects something. To fix things. To decide everything.”

Alex nodded. “That’s the trap.”

“Thinking being a god means controlling everything.”

“Power isn’t what you do. It’s what you allow.”

“What if I make the wrong choice?”

“You will.”

“And then?”

“Then you’ll learn what kind of god you want to be.”

“You’re not afraid.”

“I was… before I understood.”

Breaking the Cells

A moment where strength didn’t need explanation.

I woke up, then fell asleep again — and suddenly I was in jail.

But it wasn’t a normal jail. It was made out of metal. Five or six cells. Doctors around. Controlled. Observed.

And above it… there was something else.

A festival. Full of actors, stars, people. A completely different world layered above the one I was in.

I realized I was inside the jail.

So I snapped the door open.

The metal didn’t resist. It just opened.

They came. They tried. They diminished.

I opened the other inmates’ doors the same way.

They asked me how I did it with my bare hands.

I stayed silent.

I was calm. Almost distant. Like I already knew I could do it.

I wasn’t dressed like a prisoner. I was clothed normally.

I walked to the nurse’s office.

“Where is the doctor?” I asked.

They told me she was somewhere at the festival above.

So I went up.

I saw movie stars. I saw people. A completely different layer of reality.

And then I woke up.

The World of Warcraft Dungeon

I had one of the strangest gaming dreams I can remember.

The dream felt like a real-life version of World of Warcraft. Everything looked physical and real, as if the game world had somehow become reality.

I was inside a dungeon with a group of five players. The first boss was metallic, almost robotic. After we defeated the first phase, something completely unexpected happened.

The boss dropped a giant joint.

Apparently this was part of the encounter mechanics. Everyone in the group had to smoke it before the fight could continue. One by one the players took their turns. I was always the last person in line. When it finally reached me, I would take it and toss it away.

After the second phase, the boss did the exact same thing again. Another giant joint appeared and everyone was expected to smoke before the battle could continue. Inside the dream, this seemed completely normal.

After defeating the boss, we continued deeper into the dungeon. The next area looked less like a fantasy world and more like an office building. There was a counter with several women standing behind it.

I expected another fight, but the raid leader shook his head.

So the entire group simply walked past them and continued forward.

Near the end of the dream, someone suddenly turned toward me and said:

The statement sounded completely serious. For a brief moment, I actually believed it.

Then I woke up laughing.

Even after waking up, I could not stop thinking about a World of Warcraft dungeon where defeating a metallic boss required smoking magical joints between phases, a raid leader avoided an office full of overpowered enemies, and the most important piece of information was that the entire thing was supposedly taking place somewhere in Žitnjak.