On a single night, every human on Earth shares the same dream — sinking into a black ocean beneath a black sun, where a colossal chained entity whispers: “Free me.” The next morning, Earth’s coastlines physically shift, proving the dream was not a dream at all. Night after night, the dream continues, revealing a glowing imprisoned being beneath the Moon and a mysterious child warning humanity not to listen. When alien runes appear in the sky and the Moon cracks open, the truth emerges: the entity was imprisoned for devouring consciousness across the stars, and Earth was part of its cage. Another, darker cosmic force — the jailer — rises to stop the escape. As the two entities battle above the shattered Moon, humanity wakes to find the Moon vanished entirely. That night, every child whispers the same prophecy: “It will dream again.”
I. The First Night of the Black Ocean
The dream came without warning, without omen, without even the faintest ripple in the collective consciousness to foreshadow the moment when eight billion people would slip simultaneously into the most vivid nightmare the human species had ever experienced.
It began with silence — not the comforting hush of sleep, but a hollow, cosmic quietness, the kind that feels like standing alone on the edge of nothing.
And then the world opened beneath them.
Every person found themselves suspended above an impossible ocean: a vast expanse of perfectly still water as black and lightless as obsidian, stretching in all directions under a starless sky where a single black sun pulsed like a dying ember.
The air was neither cold nor warm; it felt like absence, like the temperature of forgotten places.
Then, with a slow lurch, they began sinking.
Into the water. Into the cold. Into the dark.
The sensation was so overwhelming that many people in the real world thrashed in their sleep, clawing at invisible surfaces, gasping for air that refused to fill lungs they no longer felt.
At the bottom of the ocean, an ancient, colossal shape lay coiled in chains thicker than city bridges — a creature so enormous and indistinct that the mind could not grasp its form without slipping into panic.
Its eyes — if they were eyes — opened.
They glowed with soft, dreadful intelligence.
And in a voice that resonated not through ears but through bone marrow, it whispered in perfect unison to every human:
“Free me.”
People across the world woke screaming.
The dream ended.
But the consequences had only begun.
II. The Morning the Coastlines Moved
By dawn, scientists were already overwhelmed with reports that made no rational sense.
Every coastline on Earth had dramatically shifted.
Shorelines moved inward by meters. Entire beaches vanished. Fishermen found their boats resting on dry ocean floors. Tide charts became meaningless overnight.
At first, the phenomenon was dismissed as mass panic or measurement error — until satellite images confirmed the truth:
The sea had been pulled outward, as if something vast beneath it had shifted in the night and displaced the waters of the world.
And yet no earthquakes had been detected. No volcanic activity. No tsunamis.
Just the silent, synchronized retreat of the oceans… as if answering a command.
Geologists tried to explain it. Oceanographers worked around the clock. Politicians urged calm.
But across the world, people whispered the same terrified sentence:
“It was the dream.”
III. The Dream Returns
The second night, at the exact same time — 3:03 a.m. — humanity fell asleep again.
Nobody could resist it. Not medication. Not caffeine. Not terror.
Everyone slipped back into the same dream, only to discover they had returned to the same black ocean, sinking once more into the depths — but this time, further.
Past where they had stopped before. Past where the creature lay chained. Past horrors they had not yet seen.
And in the stillness of the dream, a small child appeared.
A girl, barefoot, glowing faintly with pale white light.
Her hair drifted in the dreamwater like strands of smoke.
She looked terrified.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered to the world. “I’m not supposed to be here yet.”
Before anyone could speak, before billions of dreamers could ask her who she was or what she meant, the chained being below them stirred again.
Its voice rumbled through the dreamwater.
“Help me.”
“Free me.”
“I have waited long enough.”
Humanity woke to a world altered a second time.
This time, the sky had changed.
High above cities and mountains and deserts, faint glowing symbols appeared — drifting runes shaped like spirals and sharp angles.
A countdown.
Drop by drop, the numbers fell.
The world entered panic.
IV. The Woman Who Did Not Dream
In all the chaos — the evacuations, the riots, the false explanations, the global emergency broadcasts — one fact emerged that terrified every scientist more than the dreams themselves.
Not everyone had dreamed.
Just one person, in fact.
A 29-year-old linguistics researcher from Reykjavík named Aria Thorsen.
She alone had slept peacefully, untouched by the dream.
She became Earth’s most valuable anomaly.
When journalists asked how she avoided the nightmare, she simply shook her head.
“I… don’t know,” she whispered. “But when I woke up this morning, I remembered something.”
“What?”
She hesitated.
“That voice… the one everyone heard in the dream… I’ve heard it before.”
The room fell silent.
Aria swallowed hard.
“When I was a Child. In my nightmares. It always said the same thing.”
She trembled.
“‘You will speak for me.’”
V. The Third Dream: The Plea
On the third night, humanity had no choice. Sleep took them before they could even lie down.
This time, they did not float above the ocean. They stood on its still surface, the black sun hanging above them like a lid sealing the universe.
The chained entity rose halfway from the water, towering like a mountain of darkness and light.
Its chains glowed molten white.
The girl appeared again at the edges of the dream, sobbing silently.
The creature spoke:
“They imprisoned me.”
The dreamwater rippled.
“They buried me inside your moon.”
Earth gasped as one dreamer:
Billions suddenly saw the Moon in their mind’s eye — and saw, beneath its surface, not rock… but chains.
And behind those chains, a cosmic cage.
“Free me, and I will restore what they took.”
“Who?” humanity whispered across the dream-ocean.
The creature’s voice trembled.
“The ones who do not dream.”
The girl stepped closer.
“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t listen.”
But the dream ended before she could say more.
When people awoke, the countdown in the sky had dropped to zero.
And the Moon had cracked.
A thin glowing fracture ran across it, too perfect, too bright to be natural.
Just like Jonah’s story.
Astronomers scrambled to confirm what they saw.
There were structures inside. Metal. Symmetry. Chains.
The Moon was not a moon.
It was a prison.
And now the lock was breaking.
VI. The Fourth Dream: Revelation
On the fourth night, the dream changed entirely.
Humanity did not see the ocean this time.
They stood inside the cracked Moon — standing beneath impossible machinery glowing with ancient blue light, inside corridors and chambers that pulsed with strange, rhythmic energy.
The chained being appeared in front of them, closer now, its form more visible:
Long limbs, translucent skin, countless eyes like molten glass.
It looked both divine and broken.
“They took your dreams,” it whispered. “Locked them away. Locked me away. You were never meant to sleep alone.”
The child stepped forward again.
She screamed this time:
“You’re lying!”
The chained being hissed.
“Silence.”
She shook her head violently.
“Earth wasn’t the prison,” she said. “You were!”
The creature went still.
The world began to shake.
Billions of people felt the dream quake through their bones.
The girl lifted her glowing hand toward humanity and shouted:
“Wake up — NOW!”
And billions did.
They tore awake in their beds to a world in horror.
The Moon split fully open.
A luminous, many-limbed being rose from its center.
But something else rose behind it.
A shadow.
A darker shape. A larger shape. A second entity.
And it was furious.
VII. The Sky War
For the first time in human history, everyone saw the same impossible sight at once.
Above Earth, two colossal beings — one glowing with molten light, one shaped of pure shadow — collided in a silent war across the broken husk of the Moon.
The glowing one was the dream-whisperer.
The shadow was its jailer.
The truth swept through humanity like a second awakening:
The first entity wasn’t imprisoned unfairly.
It was imprisoned for a reason.
It had escaped before. It had consumed worlds. It fed on consciousness — on dreams.
Earth was supposed to stay ignorant.
Supposed to remain asleep.
So it could never hear its voice again.
But the global dream shattered that protection.
Now the prison was breaking.
The shadow and the light tore into each other, ripping lunar fragments across the sky.
And then—
Everything went white.
VIII. The Final Dream
The world blinked.
Just once.
Everyone fell asleep.
One final time.
They stood in a white void, weightless, timeless.
And the child was there — calm, no longer crying.
She spoke clearly, her voice echoing in the empty space:
“Dreaming is dangerous. But not dreaming is worse.”
The chained being appeared behind her, glowing dimmer now.
It whispered:
“Free… me…”
The girl shook her head.
“You already were.”
She turned to humanity.
“You freed the wrong one.”
Everything shattered.
IX. Awakening
Humanity woke to a silent sky.
The Moon was gone — not destroyed, but simply vanished.
Where it had once hung, there was only a faint ring of shimmering dust.
The tides surged violently. People cried. Others prayed.
Scientists announced the obvious:
The Moon was no longer in orbit.
Aria Thorsen spoke live on global broadcast.
Her voice was steady.
“I remember now,” she whispered. “I know why I never dreamed.”
The world held its breath.
“I was meant to wake you,” she said. “And now something else is waking.”
X. The Last Sentence
That night, just before midnight, every child in the world whispered the same words in their sleep:
“It will dream again.”
And in the sky, where the Moon had vanished, a faint black sun flickered once — twice — like a heartbeat.
The story was only beginning.