A dream of identity, control, and the courage to let go.
The air was warm as he stepped into the narrow apartment. Inside, they were already seated at the table. Some of them he knew well, others escaped him. Names, faces – blurred at the edges. Laughter, drinks, talk. Voices flowing together, a background hum of closeness and noise.
Suddenly, there was this device on the table. Small, silver, barely bigger than a remote. Someone pressed a button, and another person appeared beside him. Identical – except for a strangely hollow gaze. It was a copy. His copy. At first, everyone was thrilled. They laughed, experimented, multiplied themselves. Soon, there were two devices. The room filled up.
But something felt off. The copies spoke, moved, acted. But not quite right. Like they were only pretending to be human. He couldn’t explain it. But he felt it clearly, as the mood began to shift.
He wanted them gone. All of them. And he made it happen. How exactly, he couldn’t say. But they disappeared. The devices had to go too. The others resisted, spoke of potential, didn’t want to lose them. But for him, it was clear: they had to be destroyed. And he didn’t hesitate.
The layout of the apartment was strange. A long, narrow hallway, with two small rooms branching off one side. At the end, a narrow bathroom. Everything felt compressed. Cramped. As if someone had saved space where there was none to begin with.
He was just getting up when a lanky guy with a crooked smile started talking about some cheap weed he’d just bought. A small man had sold it. Dark-skinned, noticeably calm. The others listened as if it were something important. He didn’t. He felt nothing.
Then there was this woman. She followed him to the bathroom, as if something urgent needed to be said. He knew her. Or thought he did. But when he turned around, others were in the room too. Too many. Faces wrong. Copies again. This time, there was anger. Real anger. Something in him said: Enough.
The first room stood empty now, its window wide open. The wind had turned into a storm. No one else dared to enter. Only he stepped back inside. The pressure was intense. Air swirled like water through a broken pipe. He fought his way forward, reached the window. With both hands, he pulled it shut.
The wind stopped. And everything fell silent.
