Tomorrow’s Dream

Tomorrow’s Dream

Every time Mira closed her eyes, she saw pieces of her future. Not all of it—just flashes, scenes stitched together like film reels, looping in the quiet of her dreams.

It started when she was eight. A dream of scraping her knee in the schoolyard came true the next morning. As she grew, so did the visions. A conversation before it happened. A fire alarm at work seconds before it blared. At first, it was harmless. Convenient, even. Like watching trailers for the movie of her life.

But on the night of September 25th, her dreams stopped being kind.

She had fallen asleep curled on the couch, a mug of unfinished tea cold beside her. She was exhausted. The week had been long, and her mind had been buzzing louder than usual. But the moment her eyes shut, she saw it.

Darkness. Screeching tires. Her younger brother Noah, lying motionless on the road.

The dream was clearer than anything she’d ever experienced before. The air smelled of gasoline and panic. Someone screamed his name her voice, raw and breaking. There was blood on her hands.

She jolted awake with a scream trapped in her throat. Her heart pounded like a war drum, her breath shallow and shaky. The room around her was quiet, unaware. Safe. But the vision stayed, vivid and pulsing behind her eyes.

She reached for her phone. 11:46 PM. She tapped on his name.No answer.

Come on, she muttered, hitting redial. On the third try, he picked up.

Mira? You okay? His voice was groggy.

Where are you? she asked, panic lacing her words.

At Liam’s. Watching movies. Why?

Don’t go anywhere. Stay there. I—something’s going to happen. Don’t leave until morning.

Mira…

Promise me!

Okay. I promise.

She hung up, but the dread didn't ease. Dreams had never lied to her before. And they had never been that clear.

The next morning, Mira skipped work. She drove straight to Liam’s house, arriving just as the sun broke over the horizon. Noah was standing on the porch, yawning, a coffee in hand.

I’m fine, you know, he said, smirking.

I know, she whispered. “I just needed to see you.

He looked at her for a moment, confused, but didn’t press.

Want to come in?

She nodded, though her stomach was still in knots.

By noon, she had convinced herself the dream was wrong. Maybe she was just tired. Maybe stress had warped her ability.

But then, at 2:17 PM, Noah’s phone rang.

Hey, Mom. Yeah, we’re still here. Mira’s Wait, what? What happened?

He turned pale. “A crash? Where?”

Mira’s blood ran cold.

He put the phone on speaker. “Repeat that?”

Their mother’s voice came through, shaky and afraid.

“There was a car accident on Elm Street. A black Civic. Hit by a truck. The police just called. They said the boy had Noah’s ID. But it wasn’t him. It was Liam’s cousin, Ethan. He borrowed Noah’s jacket. They thought Oh God, I thought it was you”

Mira dropped into a chair, her knees weak.

The dream had almost come true. Almost.

That night, she couldn’t sleep. She lay in bed, watching the ceiling like it might offer her peace. Her dreams had saved Noah but only because she had intervened.

That was the terrifying part.

Her ability wasn’t a prophecy. It was a warning.

The next day, she bought a journal. On the first page, she wrote:

September 26th. The dream didn’t lie. I listened. It mattered.

She made a decision: every dream would be documented. Every vision, every whisper of tomorrow. If there was danger, she would stop it. If there was hope, she would nurture it.

She wasn’t just a passive witness to fate anymore.

She was its challenger.

A week later, she dreamt of an old woman falling in a grocery store, unnoticed, her hip broken, her calls for help faint and ignored.

That morning, Mira visited that exact store—despite having no reason to be there.

She found the woman, just as the dream showed. But this time, someone was there to catch her.

Not every dream was tragedy. Some were mundane: a spilled cup of coffee, a missed train, a stranger’s smile. But each one mattered in some way.

And every night, Mira slipped into sleep knowing she was not just dreaming of tomorrow-

She was reshaping it.