A giant, red, fog-like creature—at least 24 feet tall—appeared out of nowhere, its head brushing the roof of the hall. I couldn’t see its legs, but it was running at full speed, its massive hammer-like hands thudding and banging loudly against the floor. I tried to run as fast as I could, but my speed couldn’t match its terrifying pace. I rushed past rows of doors and glimpses of the world outside the hall, but I couldn't find a way out. I didn’t even get a chance to see what lay beyond the doors properly.
Just an hour ago, everything was normal. I had eaten a cozy Sunday lunch and had fallen asleep. I remember it vividly—my dog Puffy was napping beside me. But when I opened my eyes, I found myself in a massive circular hall, filled with what seemed like a hundred doors. The ceiling was high, and the entire hall was painted a peculiar shade of yellow. I panicked. I pinched myself several times to confirm whether I was dreaming—but it was real. This wasn’t a dream.
I couldn't understand where I was or why I was there. Puffy was gone. My familiar world had vanished. The only thing I knew was that the door in front of me—the one I had woken up near—was locked. Naturally, I assumed there had to be a key. But no matter how much I searched, I couldn’t find one.
I looked through several of the other doors. One revealed a beautiful snowy landscape. Another opened to a golden summer day, filled with flowers and birds. Yet another showed a terrifying storm. One door revealed a roaring waterfall, another a blood-red sky with soldiers in black armor—it felt like a warzone. There was even a door to a galaxy, vast and cosmic, and one that opened to an enchanting underwater world. Although I loved the stars and sea, I was too scared to step through. Every door offered a new reality, a new challenge—but also new uncertainty. And uncertainty scared me.
Then suddenly, I was jolted back to the present—back to the moment with the monster chasing me. Perhaps the creature wasn’t just chasing me for the sake of it. Perhaps it was pushing me, forcing me to make a choice. Life often does that. When we hesitate and overthink, life throws us into situations that compel us to decide, even if we’re not ready.
I didn’t get the chance to analyze or evaluate. I just wanted to escape. Staying in the hall meant certain death. So, with no plan and no choice, I ran into the nearest door.
To my surprise, I was safe. I had entered a beautiful plain filled with trees, singing birds, and a vibrant rainbow hanging in the sky. For a moment, I felt relieved. Although I hadn’t chosen this world intentionally, I was glad I landed somewhere safe. But peace didn’t last long.
Despite the beauty, I couldn’t stop thinking about my world—my real world. I needed to return. I was anxious. I was desperate. I needed to find the key.
But how?
There was no one around. I was alone. I started thinking, Where can I find help? Where is the key?
To my amazement, a tree responded:
“Do you want to get the key?”
I froze. I hadn’t spoken a word. But the voice was clear.
Soon, the trees, grass, and birds all responded in unison:
“We hear your thoughts. We are connected to your vibes. Whatever you think, we hear.”
A large, ancient tree, its bark twisted with age, spoke in a husky voice:
“If you want the key, you must cross the dense forest.”
“What forest? What’s inside it?” I asked countless questions, but no one answered. The voices fell silent. Another open loop. Another mystery.
But I knew I had to try. I had to take the leap of faith. So I walked until I reached the edge of the dense forest—and stepped in.
The forest was dark and thick, filled with mud, creepy crawlies, and a heavy mist. At first, my instinct was to turn back. But I reminded myself: the key is ahead, and if I don’t go forward, I’ll never return home.
My stomach growled with hunger, the ache sharp and unbearable. It felt like thousands of rats were running inside me. Still, I pushed on. I kept my eyes on the goal—the key.
Then came fire.
A path of burning flames lay ahead. I had to walk through it. I had no shoes, and it burned. My feet swelled, and every step was agony. But I didn’t stop.
Because sometimes, in order to return to who we truly are, we must first cross the fire.
Suddenly, I noticed something strange—creatures with glowing red eyes. I felt them staring at me from the shadows, unblinking and intense. I was terrified. The more scared I felt, the larger their eyes grew. Their forms, dark and shadowy, seemed to feed on my fear.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I collapsed to the ground and began to cry. In that moment of despair, I remembered my angels. I summoned them with all my heart.
And then, a soft white light started to pierce through the dense forest. My angels, dressed in white robes, appeared around me. I looked up and asked them, “What is happening?”
“They are feeding on your fear,” one of them said gently. “Be courageous, and they will disappear.”
Those words struck something deep inside me. I reminded myself of my purpose—I had to find the key. I had to get back to my world. As soon as I embraced that determination, the red-eyed monsters vanished. The more I let go of fear, the more they dissolved. It was as if they had never existed.
I continued on and entered a tunnel. It was pitch dark inside, and the sharp screeches of bats echoed around me. Doubt crept in again—I thought I wouldn’t be able to make it through.
Still, I kept walking.
The road was terrible—uneven, full of potholes, and my already injured legs ached badly. A foul smell hung in the air, making every step feel unbearable. My senses were overwhelmed, but I pushed forward.
And then, in the distance, I saw it—a light. A soft, glowing light, like a star of hope. I started running toward it, ignoring the pain. As I neared the end of the tunnel, the light grew brighter. Finally, I emerged on the other side.
It was no longer the jungle. It was a beautiful, peaceful place. And there, right in front of me, were the keys.
I found myself back in the same hall from before, but this time, the once-locked door had the keys already placed in its keyhole. The monster that had chased me earlier was gone.
With trembling hands, I turned the key. The door opened effortlessly.
And suddenly—I was back.
Back on my bed.
It felt like I had woken up from a dream, but everything felt so real. Tears rolled down my cheeks, not from fear now, but from relief and gratitude. I rushed to the kitchen where my mama was cooking my favorite meal.
Without saying a word, I hugged her tightly and kissed her again and again. She looked surprised, even a little shocked.
“What happened to you?” she asked softly.
I just smiled. I was back in my world—my beautiful, safe, precious world.
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