#ebg

Ever since you were a child, you never understood how people could forget their dreams. Yours were incredibly vivid; the images lingered long enough for you to draw them in detail.

You easily recalled the way sunlight dances on crystal-clear waters, the soft whisper of wind through leaves, the fineness of the sand beneath your feet, the kaleidoscope of colors in the night sky, and how grand architectural feats towered over you.

You longed to see all of it with your own eyes.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple. Traveling was a luxury for your family, and they weren’t the adventurous type either. The only thing you could do was create a bucket list of places you hoped to visit as an adult.

While most people desire to traverse the globe, there was something about yours that felt…different. You’ve dreamed of places and people that you’ve never seen before.

At first, you assumed they must have come from random glimpses of magazines lying around the house, or pictures your teachers had shown in class.

Then things got even weirder.

At some point in high school, new locations started appearing in your dreams. Gyms, volleyball courts, and stadiums. The exact same ones, over and over again.

A particularly beautiful girl started appearing more too. Slowly, more people joined her—at least thirteen more, if your count was accurate. You didn’t recognize any of them, but their unique voices stayed with you. 

While they were mostly pleasant dreams, it was still unsettling. You ended up asking your parents about it, but they quickly leaped to conclusions. "It’s probably connected to your soulmate!" they said, excitement lighting their faces.

It wasn’t exactly the reaction you expected, but thankfully, it pushed them to be more supportive of your dreams to travel. 

Eventually, the volleyball dreams faded, just as you started pursuing a degree in journalism. At last, you were carving a path to the life you’d always wanted—one where your curiosity could take you beyond the limits of your hometown.

You were one step closer to finally exploring the world.

A few years after graduating, you’ve been lucky enough to land a job with a well-known travel magazine. 

Apparently, you had an exceptional portfolio; your words alone were capable of painting the clearest pictures in the readers’ minds. It felt surreal to hear this praise, but more than that, it felt right. 

You felt like you were finally where you belonged.

Though you don’t get to choose the destinations for your assignments, it hardly matters. You’ve fallen in love with each place you’ve visited.

Whether exploring the whitewashed buildings of Santorini, cycling through the charming canals of Amsterdam, or basking in the turquoise waters of Boracay, every experience has broadened your horizons. 

Best of all, the company covers most of your travel expenses, so how could you complain?

Yet, one dream continues to elude you—the lantern festival.

For years, you’ve been enamored by its magic, picturing the moment hundreds of glowing lanterns fill the night sky. 

It’s been at the top of your bucket list since childhood. You’ve researched every detail: the best time to visit, the most stunning viewpoints, even the perfect wish to write on delicate paper. You’ve imagined the feeling of releasing your lantern so many times that it’s become second nature to dream about it, over and over.

Perhaps that’s why, as much as you’ve traveled, there’s a lingering ache in your chest. A small part of you feels incomplete, as if something is waiting for you there.

And then, one night, something in your dreams begins to shift.

You find yourself in the familiar scene of the festival, surrounded by the warm glow of lanterns. As always, you write your wish on the translucent paper: achieve my dreams and live a fulfilling life with no regrets.

But this time, something is different.

Beside your neatly written wish, there’s something new. Foreign characters—delicate strokes of Japanese script—appear as if they were always meant to be there. The ink feels familiar, though you don’t recall writing it.

Confused but curious, you prepare to lift the lantern. That’s when you notice you’re not alone.

Someone is with you. Their presence is so natural that it doesn’t feel strange, even though you can’t see their face. Together, you hold the lantern between you, your hands brushing as you gently release it into the air. The glow reflects in their silhouette, and for a moment, everything feels perfect. 

When you wake, the dream lingers. The feeling of their hand against yours stays etched in your mind, warm and tangible in a way none of your dreams have ever been.

You can’t shake the feeling that these fragments are leading you somewhere, like pieces of a puzzle waiting to fall into place.

You really hate delayed flights; you wouldn’t be running and panting now if things had gone as planned.

To be fair, the situation wasn’t anyone’s fault. A coworker unexpectedly fell sick, so you were asked to fill in and cover the annual Yi Peng Lantern Festival in Thailand at the last minute. 

Despite the frantic circumstances, you suppose it was a blessing in disguise.

Lungs burning, you finally arrive at the festival venue. The paper lanterns have already started to float into the night sky like glowing stars. You hope you’re not too late.

At the registration booth, you show the ticket your coworker had purchased in advance, only to encounter a new problem.

“We are very sorry, but there has been a shortage of lanterns,” the stationed employee explains. “There were a lot of walk-ins this evening. Would you be willing to wait? We are still looking for available vendors.”

You hum to yourself, thinking about what to do. Though it would have been nice, you suppose you didn’t need to release a lantern to write the article.

“Okay-”

“Share?” 

The sudden voice beside you makes you jolt.

Turning, you see a man with a bright, toothy grin. He points to his lantern, which looks a little big for him. It’s kind of adorable, now that you think about it.

“Me?” You point to yourself. “You want to share your lantern with me?”

“Yeah. So you happy. Uh, sorry, my English is not that good,” he says sheepishly.

You wave your hand dismissively. “It’s okay. Don’t worry, I understand you.”

“Great. Let’s go!” He gestures toward the crowd.

You bow to the event employee and thank him before following the stranger to a quieter spot.

“This is okay?” He looks back at you.

“Yup,” you reply. “Thank you so much.”

“Welcome. Here, write the wish.” He hands you a black marker.

Taking it, you select a blank area and write your wish down without a second thought. You’ve done this a hundred times in your dreams.

As you return the marker, you catch a glimpse of his wish. They’re written in Japanese script—the same characters you’ve seen in your dreams.

Wait.

Wait.

Your heart skips a beat as the realization hits.

The man notices your sudden silence and looks at your wish. He freezes, his expression unreadable.

“Uh,” you look at all the people around you, hoping to break the silence. “So, let’s get our lantern flying?”

“Yeah!” He positions himself at one end of the lantern. “Ready?”

Grabbing the other end, you nod.

“Three, two, one, up!”

Together, you release the lantern. It floats gently into the sky, joining the sea of glowing lights.

It’s breathtaking—something you’ll never forget.

“Thank you, uh, what’s your name?”

“My name?” He points to himself. “Nishinoya Yuu. Nickname is Noya.”

“Noya?” 

He enthusiastically gives you a thumbs-up. “Yes, Noya! And you are?”

You share your name, and he repeats it. You don’t know why, but you love the way it sounds on his tongue. He seems happy to have gotten your name right on the first try too.

“I feel like I just got déjà vu,” you comment, gazing at the sky.

“Decha what?”

“Déjà vu,” you explain. “Uh, it feels like I saw this happen before. In a dream.”

At your admission, something shifts in the atmosphere.

“Dream?” He furrows his eyebrows. “Dream, like sleeping?”

You nod at him, gesturing to everything going on around you. “I dreamed of this many times.”

Noya’s gaze remains fixed on you as he responds. “Me too. I dream of this. Many times.”

You glance at his bag, noticing a volleyball hanging from it. You’re immediately reminded of your high school dreams.

Were your parents right all along? 

Could it be?

“How about last night?” Your voice lowers. “Did you dream of fireworks?”

He gasps, eyes widening. “Yes. Beach fireworks.”

It can’t be a coincidence anymore.

“It’s you.” You can’t wipe the grin off of your face. “You’re the one.”

“The one?” Noya tilts his head.

You pause, wondering how he’ll react to your suggestion. “Soulmate?” 

For a moment, he stares at you, and you wonder if you’ve gone too far. You hope he doesn’t think you’re crazy.

However, before you can take your words back, he steps forward and takes both your hands in his.

Almost immediately, something surges through your body, like some sort of warm, vitalizing energy.

The zing.

You can’t tear your eyes away from each other, and you can see the same astonishment reflected in his.

“Soulmate,” Noya whispers. “Dream soulmate.”

And for once in your life, things start to make sense.

“Yeah, it’s you. You’re the one in my dreams.”