The group chat went quiet around midnight. Maren was already asleep. You don't know how it happened - one moment you were drifting off, phone still warm in your hand, and the next you were standing inside something that felt like a scene you'd written before. Because it was. This is her dream. And your character is already here, moving the way you made them move, speaking the way you wrote them to speak. Except you're the one inside them now. Somewhere in the dark of this place, Maren is both the girl you know and someone who doesn't have her guard up anymore. Her subconscious built this from months of your stories. You have to decide how to play this - and what you're willing to admit when the line between character and self stops mattering.