Everyone dreamed the same dream

Everyone on Earth dreamed the same dream.

There were no words in it. No voice explaining what we were seeing. Just a shared certainty, pressed gently into our minds as we slept.

In the dream, the Earth was aware.

She felt old, heavy with memory. She felt the countless lives she had carried without complaint. And she felt the sun—not as a distant fire, but as something familiar. A presence that had watched her for billions of years without ever touching too closely.

The sun moved nearer.

Not violently. Not with hunger.

Carefully.

When people woke, they couldn’t explain why they felt different. Only that something had shifted. The sky looked the same, but the sunlight felt… attentive. As if it lingered a fraction longer on skin and stone.

Astronomers noticed it later that morning. The sun had dimmed slightly—so little it barely registered—but enough to make instruments disagree with one another. The corona had begun to organize itself, folding inward instead of flaring outward.

“It’s holding something,” one of them said.

No one laughed.

Over the next few days, people stopped sleeping well. Not because of nightmares, but because of anticipation. They found themselves staring at the sky for no reason. Standing still mid-task, mid-sentence, unable to look away.

Parents forgot to call their children inside at sunset.

Children forgot to be afraid of the dark.

The dream returned every night, unchanged. Earth and sun drawing closer. Stone and light aligning, not in violence, but recognition. Whatever was forming between them felt inevitable—ancient, patient, already decided.

Three months later, the sun dimmed again.

This time, it didn’t recover.....

Read the full story: The Newborn Sun (coming soon)