A ray of light hits my face—sharp and blinding. I raise my hand to block it, but it’s no use. Turning to my side, I try to drift back to sleep, but the noise around me makes it impossible. I hear someone—probably my grandmother—telling my brother to go buy groceries. Voices echo from every corner of the house; footsteps shuffle, doors creak, conversations overlap.
Then suddenly—crash! A loud noise jolts me fully awake.
“Ughhh, what happened?” I groan, rubbing my eyes and stretching as I sit up.
As my vision clears, I take in the chaos: groceries and utensils scattered across the floor, and my mother furiously scolding my brother in the middle of it all. The whole house feels like a storm just passed through.
I glance out the window. Birds are chirping, kids are playing in the street, and for a moment, I’m lost in the calm outside—until someone calls my name.
“Hey! Still not awake? Come on, we need to go! It’s already late!” my cousin exclaims dramatically, like she’s auditioning for a role in a play. Honestly, with the way she acts, she could probably get into theatre without even trying.
She spots my grandmother and rushes over to her, no doubt to start her daily monologue about how hard college is. That’s just her. She’s my uncle’s daughter and technically lives only two blocks away, but you wouldn’t know it. She comes here so often, it’s like she moved in. She only goes home to remind her parents she still exists. The rest of the time, she’s here—mostly, I think, just to make sure I’m constantly annoyed. But hey, I guess that’s what cousins are for.
“Come on! Wake up! We need to gooooo!” she yells again.
“Okay, okay!” I raise my hands in mock surrender, throwing off my blanket and dragging myself out of bed to get ready.
Usually, we’re not in such a rush—it’s college holidays after all. But today, we need to go to campus to fill out forms for the next semester. Both of us study at the same college. Honestly though, the real rush isn’t about college—it’s about what comes after.
Today, all of us cousins have planned a picnic. Since we all grew up together and are really close, any chance to hang out is a big deal. A few more cousins are supposed to show up any minute now. So, I better hurry and get ready before they arrive.
Just as I finish brushing my hair, I hear the doorbell ring. More cousins! The house erupts into greetings, laughter, and teasing. Someone’s shouting from the kitchen. Another cousin is digging through the fridge, asking if there’s anything to eat. The whole place is alive—messy, loud, and perfect.
We pile into the car, snacks packed, sunglasses on, ready to head out for the picnic. I laugh as my cousin tells one of her over-the-top college stories, while another tries to play DJ and starts a debate over the playlist. Everything feels so full—of life, of love, of togetherness.
But then… silence.
Suddenly, everything stops. The voices vanish. The sunlight dims.
I blink.
And I’m no longer in the car.
I’m in my room. Alone.
The fan above creaks faintly. The air feels still, heavy. I sit up slowly, confused, my heart still caught in the warmth of what felt so real.
It was a dream.
No crashing sounds. No cousin yelling at me to get ready. No mother shouting. Just silence, broken only by the faint hum of the fridge in the next room and the occasional honk from a distant street.
I reach for my phone out of habit. Dead. I check the switch. Power’s out. Again. I frown and shuffle over to the window—no lights, no buzzing electronics, nothing. No signs of life outside either.
I step back and sit down. The silence presses in. That dream… it was so real. For a few moments, I had everything—family, chaos, connection. Now, in this overly connected world, all I feel is disconnected.
I lie back down, staring at the ceiling. Maybe a world without technology isn’t just about no devices or internet. Maybe it’s about remembering what we’ve let slip away in all the noise—laughter, stories, real conversations, shared space.
And for a moment, I wish I could go back—to that messy kitchen, those dramatic rants, that picnic we never took… but in my dream, we did.
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