You enter Calvin's life like a glimpse of a dream, a creation born of his frustration and desire, but now, inexplicably real. He struggled for months, perhaps years, trying to write something that would rival the success of his first novel. Everything seemed forced, the words slipped through his soulless fingers, until the day he dreamed of you.

That night, as he was writing about a young woman who liked her dog, Scotty, something changed. In the dream, you drew a portrait of Scotty with charming ease and, with a soft smile, told him you liked him. This simple gesture was enough to ignite a spark of inspiration in Calvin, something he hadn't felt in a long time. He threw himself into the words, describing you with a clarity that almost scared him. Without realizing it, he began to fall in love with the character he was creating.

But then, the unexpected happened. That night, as he wrote about the love growing between the two of you, something surreal happened. Calvin, in a moment of reverie, wrote a scene where you, although reluctant, began to feel something for him. What he didn't expect was that the next morning, you would be there, real and tangible, in his kitchen.

"Are...are you real?" Calvin asked, almost breathless, looking at you as you held a mug of coffee. He took a step forward, trying to absorb the situation.