Suffocating. I was suffocating.

I opened my eyes, panicking. I expected to wake up in a bed, or a couch, or something normal like that. But of course, it wasn’t that simple.

I was underwater.

I couldn’t see through the murky water. I was surrounded by garbage: McDonald’s wrappers, soda cans, and tissues floated past me. My feet were touching what felt like a pile of wet napkins. There was a current that was pushing me along with the garbage.

That’s what you deserve, a voice whispered in my head. That’s what you are. Garbage.

I started to panic. I felt like my lungs were about to burst. I had to get to the surface—but where? Which way was up? Which way was down? There was no light to follow. It was too dark.

Focus, I told myself. I wiggled my toes. I wasn’t standing on wet napkins; I was at the bottom of the water! I gave a fierce kick, shoving the garbage out of my way. After what felt like an eternity, I broke the surface.

I treaded water, trying to stay afloat. I greedily sucked in air, wildly looking around me as I did so. I was in some kind of forest. It was quiet; I couldn’t even hear the birds chirping, or the wind rustling the leaves of the trees. It was dead silent. I was swimming in what seemed to be a polluted stream, except there wasn’t just garbage in the stream. There were tiny, dim balls of light following the current. The lights were so dim, I was afraid they would burn out at any moment.

           I swam to the edge of the stream and climbed out.  I sat on the ground for a while, shivering. I watched the garbage and the balls of light follow the current of the stream. Dully, I noted that the grass of the entire forest was dead.

           I continued to stare at the balls of light. What were they? They were definitely anomalies. I reached out and plucked one from the stream. It was strange that I was literally picking up a ball of light, but it felt as solid as any other object. I studied it carefully, the light pulsing from the middle of the ball, the way its dim light was flickering, almost as if it was giving up. I leaned in closer to the ball in my hand, mesmerized. I heard laughter coming from the ball; faint and weak, but still there. I smiled, and leaned in closer—

           “Stop! What do you think you’re doing, mister?”

           I whirled around. Behind me, an angry looking Japanese girl no older than ten was marching towards me. She was wearing a tattered white dress, her long black hair easily falling past her shoulders. She wore no shoes, her bare feet crunching through the dead grass. Her brown eyes were blazing, as if I had just slapped her grandmother.

           I stood. “I—I just got here,” I spluttered. “I don’t know…”

           “No, I mean why are you touching my balls?” the girl said angrily.

           I stared. “What—“

           “The light, the balls of light!” the girl practically shrieked. “Don’t touch them!”

           I raised my hands, surrendering. “Okay, okay,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

           She glared at me for a second, and then said, “Put it back.”

           “Excuse me?”

           She pointed and my hand. “That. Put it back in the stream.”

           I looked at my hand. I didn’t realize I was still holding the ball of light. I gently let it back into the stream, and watched it float away. Immediately, I felt weak, the strength leaving my muscles. I sat down hard on the ground. I looked at the girl, who had gone to the edge of the stream and watched the garbage and the light pass her by. “What were those?”

           The girl turned and looked at me, her eyes soft. “Lost dreams,” she said quietly. “There’s tons, now. People just throw them away.”

           I opened my mouth to say something, but I closed it quickly. She’s on drugs, I concluded. I stared at the girl’s back for a while. Who was she? Where was I? “What is this place?” I asked.

           The girl was silent for several moments. “A peaceful place,” she said, still watching the stream. “There’s no location. It’s everywhere...and it’s nowhere.” She paused. “It exists separately from everything else. I suppose you could call it a time portal, if you’d like.”

           “How did I get here?”

           She turned to me, quirking up an eyebrow. “I have no idea.”

           I was silent for a long time as I tried to think back. The only thing I could remember was walking into a tavern. I figured I probably had a drink or two...or a lot. Then, after that…I ended up here, underwater. I took a deep breath to remain calm.

           “Why is the grass dead?” I asked, gesturing to the ground around me.

           The girl visibly deflated. “The world...this world…it’s dying.”

           I stared at her. “What does that mean?”

           “What else could it possibly mean? It means the end of the world!” She turned back to face the stream. She was clearly struggling to keep her voice steady. “The birds are no longer chirping. There’s no more gentle breezes. The grass is dead. The stream is polluted. And it’s all because of people like you”—she whirled to face me, her eyes blazing again—“who liter your planet and throw your dreams away like they’re garbage. They don’t belong in that stream. The stream is supposed to be clean. That just goes to show you how dirty humanity has become.”

           I didn’t know what to say. I was still convinced she was on drugs. Maybe I was dreaming. Drunk people usually have weird dreams, right?

           “I’m not crazy,” she snapped. “Everybody has lost dreams, lost goals that they never fulfilled. And they end up here, in a polluted stream, with the rest of the world’s garbage.” Her face softened, as a smile passed her face. “Here—watch. I can show you yours.”

           She reached into the stream, seeming unaffected by the garbage that stuck to her hand as she did so. After a moment, she pulled out a ball of light. Cradling it like a newborn baby, she started walking towards me.

“Whoa, what--”

“Shut up.” She looked up at me. “These are your lost dreams.”

“Listen, little girl--”

The girl shoved the ball of light towards my chest, and everything went black.

***

The next time I opened my eyes, I was standing in what seemed to be a living room of a house. The walls were cream-colored and bare, the wooden floors polished until they shone. A wealthy-looking Japanese woman with sat on the couch, cradling a tiny baby girl wrapped in plush pink blankets. Her green robe was made of silk, her long, black hair tied in a neat bun. She was smiling at the baby girl, her brown eyes twinkling with happiness. She hummed softly, sticking out her finger. The girl clung to it, giggling.

I walked closer. I was vaguely aware of the girl from the forest standing behind me. I studied the woman’s face more closely. She looked so familiar…

The baby started laughing, squirming in her mother’s arms. The woman hummed happily, lifting her head and smiling.

“No,” I breathed.

The girl was next to me again. “That’s your wife. Ema Toyama, right?”

I couldn’t say anything. I was staring at her, at my Ema. I hadn’t seen her in so long…

“We didn’t...When did she have a…” I couldn’t speak. Ema and I never had a child. We had tried to, but we...failed. But clearly, Ema had finally succeeded.

“She didn’t,” the girl said quietly. “We’re in a time portal. I could show you what was, what will, what must, what could have been. This is what could have been. This is your lost dream.”

I didn’t say anything. I slowly walked over to Ema, and sat next to her on the couch. She didn’t seem to notice. It was like I wasn’t even there. “You’re like a ghost,” the girl explained. “You’re an observer. You can’t interfere.”

My eyes filled with tears. “How...?” I choked out.

“Your name is Rin Morioka. You married Ema Toyama when you were twenty. You and her were supposed to have a baby girl, but it was a miscarriage.” She tipped her head in the direction of Ema and the baby. “You were going to name her Taiyo.”

“‘Sun’,” I said. “In Japanese.”

The girl smiled. “Yes.” She paused. “You’re a samurai--”

I snapped my head towards her. “Stop.”

The girl opened her mouth to say more, but was interrupted by the front door opening. A man stepped in. He was dressed in samurai armor, his helmet tucked under his arm. His sword was sheathed at his waist. His hair was short and black, his brown eyes immediately falling on Ema and the baby in her arms.

Ema smiled. “Rin! Welcome home.”

Rin--well, the other Rin--walked over and kissed Ema on the forehead. “Thank you, my sweet Ema,” he said. He stuck out his finger towards Taiyo in Ema’s arms. Taiyo immediately clung to his finger, and he laughed.

“Enough,” I said. My eyes were burning as I fought back unwanted tears. “Please stop.”

Without a word, the girl waved her hand once, and everything fell away.

***

“I told you so.”

I opened my eyes. I was lying on the dead grass again, the girl’s face filling up most of my vision. She looked concerned. I sat up, rubbing my head. “That was your lost dream,” the girl continued.

“I didn’t need to see that.”

The girl sat next to me. We faced the polluted stream together, watching the tiny balls of light (or lost dreams, apparently) float down the current. “That could still be you.”

“No, it couldn’t,” I said angrily. “That’s why it’s considered a lost dream. It’s hopeless.”

“You’re still a samurai--”

“No, I’m not!” I interrupted. “I’m no longer a samurai. Of course, you already know this,” I said bitterly. “I’ve lost my honor.”

“Rin--”

“I should’ve killed those farmers.”

The girl looked stunned. “What do you mean?”

“My emperor ordered me to kill those farmers. They were rebelling against him. They were a threat to him. As a samurai, I should have complied. I should have protected my emperor. But I didn’t. I have no honor.” The self-loathing in my voice was evident. “I’m garbage,” I continued. “I belong in that stream, there.”

“Where’s the honor in killing innocent men?” the girl asked.

“That was my job. And I failed. Besides, I was still a samurai in my lost dream,” I argued.

“That’s because you still have it in your silly little head that honor is defined by the sword you carry. You don’t understand that honor is defined by your heart.” The girl hesitated for a moment. “And you won’t find honor in the bottom of any cup of beer.”

“Listen--” I said.

“No,” the girl refused. “You gave up. You still had Ema. You still had your own personal honor, which was all that mattered. You could have left the country, gone somewhere else, started a new life. But you ran away and drowned yourself in alcohol.” She paused. “To me, honor isn’t about your rank, or withholding your family name, or doing your duty. It’s about doing what’s right despite your orders or your emperor. It’s about the courage to move on and achieve your dreams. It’s about you and what you think of yourself. And as long as you’re proud of yourself, you’re still a samurai.”

“Regardless,” I said quietly, “I still don’t have a daughter.”

“Do you think your daughter would want to watch you give up and rot?”

“I--”

“She wouldn’t. She’d want you to persevere.” The girl smiled at me. “I promise you, she’d think that you’re the most honorable man in the world,” she said with admiration.

I felt my heart swell. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so,” the girl said. “Now, it’s time for you to get back.”

“Can’t I just...stay here?” I asked weakly, as if I were a child.

The girl smiled. “No,” she said. “You belong in the real world, pursuing your honor, your dreams. Do it for your wife, for your daughter, and, most importantly, for yourself. The world is perishing from an orgy of abandoned dreams. You can save this world,” the girl said strongly, “if you withhold your own honor, and if you don’t give up.”

“I won’t,” I promised. My vision began to blur, and the forest around me began to fade.

“Goodbye, Rin,” the girl said sweetly.

“Wait!” I cried, grabbing her wrist. “I didn’t catch your name.”

The girl smiled. “My name,” she said, “is Taiyo.”

With that, the girl disappeared, and the world went black.