A Sky That Wouldn’t Decide

 

I was attending classes when the dream began—nothing unusual, nothing dramatic. The sun was out, the day felt ordinary, almost comforting. It was the kind of normal that doesn’t demand attention.

And then, without warning, the light disappeared.

The sky turned grey, thick with clouds, but no rain followed. The clouds didn’t move. They didn’t drift or break apart. They simply stayed there, heavy and still. There was no sun, no moon—no way to tell whether it was morning, afternoon, or night. Time felt suspended, as if the world had paused without telling anyone.

Everything continued, yet nothing progressed.

I felt the urge to call my parents. I don’t remember the reason—only the urgency. I dialed, tried again, and again. No call went through. Just silence. The kind that grows louder the longer it stays unanswered.

Later—if “later” even existed in that place—my father came to pick me up. His presence felt real, grounding, familiar. Yet even then, I kept trying to reach my mother. The phone stayed unresponsive. No connection. No voice. No reassurance.

The sky never changed.
The clouds never moved.
Time never chose a direction.

When I woke up, the feeling remained. Calm on the surface, chaos underneath. A world that looked stable but felt unresolved. A reminder that sometimes, everything can appear perfectly still—while something inside you is quietly searching for connection.