“My Baby Dragon,” a woman says in some language not English, “You’re all grown up. You’re going to be married now.” I remember the gentle caressing of her fingers on my face, her bright and melodic voice, the tears in her dark brown eyes. Nothing else.

I guess she was my mom; I have her same eyes and face shape. I sit up in bed, my vision blurry. I feel something on my cheeks and touch them. When I pull away my fingers, they’re wet. I’m crying. And then I’m sobbing and there’s a great pain in my chest that seems to pull me down with all the weight in the world.

Without knowing why, I’m breaking down.

At some point I get out of bed and wash my face. The me in the mirror carries such a depressed atmosphere that I wish I hadn’t looked. After wiping, I make another mark on the paper in the living room and decide to try going somewhere new. I find swimming trunks in one of the drawers of my room and goggles in the bathroom. I fetch my keys from my nightstand.

In the garage, a sleek red BMW sits. I click a button, and the car’s headlights light up. Smiling giddily, I get in and start the car.

Driving without anyone around is so nice but lonely. Nice, because no people means no bad drivers, but lonely, because even though I don’t remember it, I miss the presence of other people. How long  I will have to go on this way, I don’t know. I hope it’s not that long.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

I drive to a beach. Some pretty clean and deserted beach. The water laps at the sand so peacefully. I change in the open, feeling so awkward and free at the same time.

Splashing into the water, I frown in disappointment. As usual, I can’t feel the water. Nevertheless, I continue to venture further.

A wave splashes over my head and I’m underwater. I’m breathing. It’s against logical thought. Then I remember what I thought yesterday. This world isn’t real.

But swimming is just as tiring, and I groan internally.

I open my eyes underwater to see parts of fish and many other things, cut off like the human body parts, with numbers floating into the water. Sea anemone, a few clown fish, a school of silver fish, some octopi, jellyfish, and a couple other life forms along with all the plants are the only completed living things. Unlike the baby on the swing, they move. I smile in wonder.

A dolphin swims past, and I realize I’m far from the shore. The dolphin seems to laugh at me, but I can’t hear its chattering. I reach out and it swims closer to let me touch its fin. Lightly grabbing hold, I giggle in glee as the dolphin hauls me to shore.

I lay on the beach and wait to dry off in the sun. Somewhere along the way I seem to doze off.

This world isn’t real. I can breathe underwater and heal almost immediately. I have a “starting point”” for every day--my bed. But then what is real? Where are my memories? Are they even real? What about what I know? Am I real?