the loneliest girl asleep
a dreamlog where everyone suddenly left and nobody told me.
I had a dream — and in my dream, I woke up one morning and nobody was around.
It wasn’t a nightmare or some apocalyptic scenery. Everything seemed normal. Just… the people were missing.
I wandered around my town, trying to find someone — but no heartbeat but mine, no laughing. Nothing. I screamed. Not a single soul answered.
Now, the thought of being alone in the world is scary.
I mean — where did everyone go?
When did they leave?
Why did nobody tell me?
Maybe this dream was stitched from that deep-seated feeling of always being a step behind. Like every person in the world got a manual on how to live, and I just… didn’t.
I didn’t question it while I was dreaming.
Those questions only arose once I woke up.
My question in this dream was simple: what do I do now?
I was alone.
But thankfully, my cats were still there.
I do owe them my life to a certain degree.
(And they owe me some shoelaces.)
It didn’t feel fair. That everyone had moved on without me.
But I also thought — maybe this is my chance to see the world.
So I started entering apartment blocks in my street that I’d only ever seen from the outside.
I’ve always wanted to be a fly on the wall, for two reasons.
One: I’ve always been intrigued by social interactions where I had no involvement. I want to know how couples fight at 11PM over pasta water. How the cool kids cry when no one’s watching. What love looks like when no one's performing it.
I guess I’m just a curious person.
The second reason was simpler:
I love seeing how people live. The objects they collect. The chaos they conceal. Did you know it’s considered rude to ask for a house tour when visiting someone? A tragedy.
In this dream, there was no one to ask. So I invited myself in.
I wandered from flat to flat until every flat started looking the same — USM sideboards. Togo sofas. Swiss minimalism, repeating like a loop. Beautiful. Sterile.
Something crucial was missing.
The people.
So I had another idea: I tried to provoke a response. I stole an avocado from the supermarket. Maybe the police would come. Maybe someone. Anyone.
The supermarket had never looked this polished. The shelves were full of fresh vegetables and glossy fruit. Not a soul in sight.
Only a soft, automated voice on the speakers:
“Avocados, 50% off if you buy more than two.”
I grabbed one. 100% off.
But the worst part of being alone in the world?
You have to make your own coffee.
And yes — there are machines for everything now. But have you ever seen a fully automated machine make good coffee? Exactly.
It’s unusual to dream about eating a regular meal on a regular bench in a regular park somewhere in Switzerland.
And yet, here I was.
Although it didn’t quite look like Zürich or anywhere nearby — more like a dream version of Hyde Park, with big hugging trees and super green grass.
I sat. I ate. I watched squirrels leap between branches like tiny trapeze artists. Birds chirped. A bell rang somewhere far off, maybe a church.
And then I thought: Is this the moment I pray to God?
I grew up going to church.
So I wandered into the first one I found nearby.
Empty.
Not even God was there.
I woke up.
