Wan Meng: Every Dream Is True

Lin Mo dreams every night. This is no ordinary dream. He dreamed that he was a sophomore in high school, sitting by the classroom window, secretly liking the girl diagonally in front of him. When I woke up the pillow still smelled of mint tissue paper. He dreamed that he was a survivor of the apocalypse, carrying a bleeding comrade on his back, cutting his way through the zombies. When he woke up, there was a scar on his left hand. He dreamed that he was an immortal cultivator, standing on the top of a solitary mountain to ward off a catastrophe. The room was filled with sandalwood scent when I woke up. He dreamed of magical worlds, cyber cities, dark alleys of the Republic of China, and lonely ships in the deep sea. Every dream is complete, continuous, and the details are as clear as another life. He thought it was just some rare sleep disorder. Until one day, he picked up a note in a dreamland where zombies were rampant. Written on it was the name of the protagonist in his campus dream. And when he woke up, there was something under the pillow that should not exist in reality. What's even more frightening is that every protagonist in the dream starts to look back for him. They were waiting for him in their dreams. Wait for him to save them. But Lin Mo couldn't even save himself.