In The Eyes of Truth

The bell rang sharply, signaling the end of the lesson. Mrs. Ramos looked up from her desk, her usual calm demeanor shifting to a more formal tone.
 
"Class, we have a new student joining us today," she said, her gaze sweeping over the room. "Please welcome Arnold."
 
All eyes turned to the door as a boy entered the classroom. He had messy brown hair, eyes that seemed to hold an unreadable depth, and an aura of quiet confidence. Arnold stood by the teacher's desk, scanning the room before his eyes landed on me.
 
"Go ahead, Arnold," Mrs. Ramos encouraged, and the class quieted in anticipation.
 
Arnold gave a small, almost shy smile, then spoke in a steady, unhurried voice. "Hi, everyone. I'm Arnold. I just transferred here from a different school. I'll be sitting here." He pointed to the desk in front of mine.
 
There was a brief silence, then a few murmurs of welcome from the class. Arnold took his seat, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary. I looked back, but I quickly turned my attention to my book, trying to shake off the strange feeling that had crept into the pit of my stomach.
 
The rest of the lesson passed in a blur, my mind drifting in and out of focus. The teacher's voice became distant as I read the book in front of me, losing myself in the world of dragons and distant lands.
 
I often found solace in the pages of books—worlds where I wasn't just Greg, a high school student struggling to make sense of a reality that felt far too ordinary. I was the hero, the adventurer, the one who lived a life full of excitement and purpose. But as I read, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.
 
The bell rang again, signaling the end of class. Students packed their bags and filed out, chatting amongst themselves. I slowly gathered my things, trying to ignore the nagging sense that I was still being watched.
 
As I stood up, I noticed Arnold hadn't left yet. He lingered near my desk, as if contemplating something. Finally, he approached me.
 
"Hey," he said, his voice soft but direct. "Have you ever felt like your dreams might be connected to memories you've forgotten?"
 
The question caught me off guard, and I froze for a moment. I didn't know how to respond. His words, though simple, seemed to hang in the air, carrying a weight that I couldn't explain. It was as if he knew something I didn't.
 

I nodded slowly, unsure of what he meant but feeling an inexplicable pull in my chest. "I don't know," I murmured, fumbling with the strap of my backpack. "Maybe."
 
Arnold gave me a small, knowing smile, then turned to leave. "I thought you might understand," he said quietly, before walking out the door, leaving me with more questions than answers.
 
I sat there for a moment, still processing what had just happened. Arnold's words echoed in my mind. "Dreams connected to memories you've forgotten." I couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, those words meant more than he let on.
 
As I gathered my things and prepared to leave, I felt a sudden urge to revisit the book in my bag. The one about the dragon. The one I had been reading during class. I couldn't explain it, but I felt like there was something more there—something important.
 
...
 
I made my way to the library during lunch, the noise of the cafeteria fading behind me. The quiet of the library felt comforting, familiar, like a sanctuary from the chaos of the outside world. I found a secluded corner and pulled out the book, flipping through the pages until I reached the part where I had left off.
 
The dragon, once a powerful force of nature, was now wandering the world in search of something it had never known. Despite its enormous strength, its long life, and its dominance over all it surveyed, it found itself empty. It had conquered kingdoms, slayed beasts, and ruled the skies, but it had never known peace.
 
The dragon's life had been defined by battle, by power. It had once reveled in its strength, believing that power alone was all that mattered. But as the centuries passed, something changed. The dragon began to feel something unfamiliar—something that gnawed at its very soul. A deep emptiness, a longing for something it couldn't name.
 
The dragon wandered, searching for what it needed. It shifted into the form of a human, trying to understand what it had never known—connection. Affection. Something beyond the fear and respect it had always inspired.
 
I... want something too.
 
I have everything yet I craved for something.
 
I hold power yet something is missing. I want to find it. The thing. The one I longed for.
 
The dragon's search for meaning mirrored my own. I had everything I could need, yet I still felt empty. My life was ordinary. There was no glory, no battles, no great achievements. But I still felt like I was searching for something.
 
The dragon's quest, its insatiable hunger for connection—it spoke to something deep inside me. I had dreams, too. Dreams that felt more real than anything else. They were vivid, intense, and when I woke up, they faded as if they had never existed. But there was something in them. Something that called to me.
 
I kept reading. The dragon continued its journey, still unable to find what it was seeking. It wandered the world, taking the form of a human in an attempt to experience life as humans did. It watched them, observed how they connected with one another. How they formed friendships, shared moments of laughter, held each other's hands with no fear. It was something the dragon had never understood.
 
I see them—laughing, talking, sharing. They smile, they love, they live… yet I am apart from them. Always.
 
I try, oh, how I try.
 
But the more I try, the more I feel like a stranger. I can never find what I am seeking. The world, indifferent, ignores me as I am—not as a man, but as a being who longs for something deeper.
 
The dragon spent countless years in this struggle, watching others as they found connections, lost them, and found them again. But still, it remained alone. Alone in the world it had once ruled with ease. But something was changing in the dragon. It began to understand, slowly, what it had been missing all this time.
 
I want something real. Something not tied to power. Something not bound by fear. I want to be seen for who I am—something beyond the terror I bring.
 
...
 
I closed the book with a sigh. The dragon had wandered for so long, lost in its search for connection, only to finally realize what it truly craved. The realization that what it sought was not strength or dominance—it was affection. It was the warmth of companionship, the trust that came with being seen as more than just a force of destruction.
 
Arnold's question from earlier echoed in my mind: "Have you ever felt like your dreams are connected to memories you've forgotten?"
 
As I sat there, a strange realization began to settle in. My dreams… were they connected to something deeper? Were they more than just fragmented thoughts? Could they be telling me something, guiding me toward something I hadn't yet understood?
 
I looked out the window. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the schoolyard. The world outside seemed so far removed from the world in my head. But deep down, I knew something was shifting.
 
The dragon's search for connection was not so different from my own. Arnold's words, the dreams, the stories—they were all part of something bigger. I could feel it now. I didn't know what it all meant yet, but I was beginning to understand that it was all connected.
 
And I... I was going to find out what it meant.