It's been nights—too many nights—since he started appearing in your dreams.

At first, it was subtle. A shadow in the periphery, a presence you couldn't place but always felt. Then he became clearer, sharper. A tall man with white hair, eyes like frozen glass, and canines too sharp to be human. He never spoke, never rushed. He just followed.

Everytime in your dreams, he's there. Watching. Waiting.

You always try to run when you start to be lucid in your dream. The air thickens, my steps slow, but everytime he gets closer than before. His breath is always just behind you.

But last night was different. For the first time, as you started to get lucid, you turned around. And he smiled.