It was one of those strange dreams again.
This time, I already had a girlfriend. We were in a long-distance relationship—four months in. I met her during a volunteer event at a southern beach. We were releasing sea turtle hatchlings into the sea, teaching schoolchildren from the nearby area to keep the beach clean and to leave the turtles alone. After that day, we kept in touch. Went out a couple of times. Eventually, we started dating.
It’s July now. She’s back in her hometown, and I’m still here—in this cold, mostly empty town. Days blur together. I went to work. Logged out at five. My friend called and asked if I wanted to grab a drink. We met at our usual bar.
We ordered some raw beer and talked for a while. It was almost eight. The atmosphere was relaxed, quiet. Just a handful of people. Lofi jazz played in the background like wallpaper.
After about four glasses, I was starting to feel it—just a bit tipsy, but still sharp. My friend and I had run out of things to say, so we just sat there, letting the moment breathe.
That’s when a girl stepped up beside me to order something.
“One mojito, please.”
“Sure thing,” the bartender replied. “Classic, or you want something fruity? We’ve got mango.”
“Just classic, please.”
“Got it. One moment.”
I recognized that voice. I’d heard it before—about a year ago. But something in it had shifted. Softer, a little sadder.
“…Luna?”
She turned and smiled. “Hey, ███. I haven’t seen you in a while. How’s life?”
It was her again. Luna. I remembered meeting her in a dream. And even now, I knew this was a dream too. But somehow, within this dream, I remembered the last one.
“I’m good,” I said. “Just living slowly in boring old ███, I guess. How about you? Still at Siemens?”
She laughed. “You’re funny.” But the laugh didn’t reach her eyes.
“Yeah… I’m still there. But I don’t know. Lately, I just feel stuck.”
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Talk to me.”
She did. She talked about how everything felt repetitive—how she woke up every morning dreading the same cycle. She told me about a show she was obsessed with. Little things from her week. And at some point, without either of us meaning to, we started reminiscing about our high school days again.
I must’ve made a weird face, because she tilted her head and asked, “Hey, what’s wrong? You look like you’re somewhere else.”
“Ah, it’s nothing,” I said. “Just… déjà vu. I swear we’ve talked about this before.”
She paused. Her eyes lingered on mine.
“Now that you mention it… I feel like we have. But I can’t remember when.”
We let that thought hang in the air for a second—then let it go. Drifted into another topic.
My friend eventually said goodnight and left. He probably sensed I had more to say to Luna. It was almost midnight. I was tired, but I didn’t want the conversation to end.
“Why don’t you come to my place?” she asked.
I hesitated. I hadn’t told her I had a girlfriend. Maybe that was wrong. But I just nodded.
“Sure. Right now?”
“Let’s go.”
I paid for our drinks, even though she tried to. Her apartment was just around the corner—two blocks from mine.
“How come I never see you?” I asked as we walked.
She smiled. “I barely go out. That bar… even though it’s so close, this was my first time going.”
“Yeah, I’d know. I’m basically part of the furniture there.”
She laughed again. “Want me to make you a sandwich?”
“A warm sandwich sounds amazing.”
Her place was quiet and warm. Rustic. The kind of space where someone lives alone but makes it feel like home. Plants near the window. A shelf full of vinyl records. That millennial-coded charm.
We sat on her couch and ate sandwiches while watching her favorite show. Two, maybe three episodes passed. At some point, she started dozing off.
I carried her to the bed, gently. She didn’t wake.
I curled up on the sofa and closed my eyes.
Right before the dream slipped away, I heard her voice again. Faint.
“I think this is goodbye again.”
And then I woke up in my own bed.