"What if sleep isn't escape, but the doorway to where we're really meant to go?"
Sleep came without warning.
After the surreal concert, the glowing auroras, the comet streaking like a silent promise, and that strange sound that shook the Earth, none of them spoke much when they got back to the dorm. No games. No late-night ramen. Not even music.
Their minds were clouded with exhaustion, but not the kind that sleep easily cured. Something lingered beneath their skin, an itch they couldn't scratch. A strange weight in the air. Silence felt louder than usual.
So they each drifted off alone, in different rooms, in different beds, yet…
They all dreamed.
Namjoon's Dream
Namjoon opened his eyes to find himself standing in a vast galaxy of floating books. The ground beneath him shimmered like glass, and above, planets rotated slowly between glowing shelves. There were no walls. No ceiling. Just endless corridors filled with books—each one radiating a faint, pulsing light. He picked one up and opened it.
Inside were pages of lyrics, poems, journal entries—his handwriting. His thoughts. But some pages were blank.
"Why are these empty?" he asked aloud.
A voice echoed back, "Because the rest of your story hasn't been written."
He turned. No one there. But he wasn't afraid. Just… awed.
"I always thought I'd write it on Earth," he said, more to himself than anyone.
A shooting star burst between shelves, and with it, a strange hum filled the space.
"Your words echo farther than you know," the voice whispered again, warm and close now. "But the stars aren't just readers. They're waiting for you to speak."
Namjoon looked up. And the stars blinked back.
Jin's Dream
Jin wandered through a grand marble hall, water rippling at his ankles.
The floor reflected the chandeliers above, although they swung without a breeze. Every step echoed like footsteps in a cathedral. Far ahead, a piano stood half-submerged. Drawn toward it, Jin waded through the still water, watching faded sheet music float by. He pressed a key. A low, aching note rang out. He smiled.
"I always thought I'd grow old with my fingers on these keys."
A girl's voice, young and soft, answered, "Then why did you stop playing for yourself?"
Jin blinked. He didn't recognize the girl, but she looked familiar. Or maybe she was part of a memory he never got to hold on to.
"I guess I got too busy giving everyone else a performance," he admitted.
The piano began to sink slowly into the water. Panicked, Jin reached out to keep playing. "Wait, just one more song!"
But the water rose to his chest.
"Don't chase the surface," the girl said. "Some songs are meant to be played deep."
Yoongi's Dream
Yoongi stood alone on cracked red terrain. Beneath his feet, the earth throbbed like a subwoofer alive, breathing. Giant speakers jutted from distant cliffs. Floating pads of light hovered before him.
A beat started pulsing through his fingertips.
Thump.
Thump.
Snap.
With each rhythm, the sky changed color.
Yoongi smirked. "So this is my kind of dream."
He built the beat louder. The bass grew heavier. With a flick of his wrist, a snare snapped—and a canyon split open across the horizon. Suddenly, the planet began to shake.
A voice boomed from above, "You build sound like a god. But do you know what you're creating?"
Yoongi paused, breath caught.
"I only know it feels right."
Cracks spread under his feet. He had a choice, stop the music and save the world, or keep playing and let it collapse. He played.
"Let it break," he muttered. "Maybe what comes next will be better."
Hoseok's Dream
Hoseok was falling but not down. Sideways. Then upward. Then, in all directions at once.
He spun in a tunnel of glowing light, weightless yet grounded. Beats surrounded him, though there were no speakers, just rhythm itself. Every movement twisted the tunnel. Each jump changed the direction of gravity.
Laughter echoed around him. His voice, younger, laughing through a rehearsal, stumbling over choreography.
"You think joy is just dancing?" the echo teased.
"I think dancing is how I breathe," Hoseok replied, twisting midair into a backflip.
The tunnel opened into a space filled with suspended memories: rehearsal rooms, concert stages, fan meets.
He floated through them like constellations.
"If the world flips upside down," he said, "I'll still land on rhythm."
Jimin's Dream
Jimin walked through a massive city of glass towers and empty streets. There were people, but none made a sound. Mouths moved. Eyes blinked. But no voices. No cries. Not even footsteps.
He tried to speak. Nothing. He tried to scream. Not even a whisper escaped.
A small boy ran toward him, tripped, and cried out—but silence. Jimin reached out to help him up. The boy flinched and vanished into dust. Tears fell down Jimin's cheeks.
"I can feel everything," he cried internally, "but I can't reach anyone."
A woman appeared beside him. She didn't speak, but her eyes said everything.
"Don't lose your voice," her presence seemed to say. "You are the echo in their silence."
Taehyung's Dream
Taehyung stood on a wide, ancient stage. Empty seats stretched into darkness. Fog swirled through the aisles. Then shapes appeared, ghosts, barely visible, watching him.
He picked up the mic and tested it. It worked. He began to hum. A melody of longing and loss.
The ghosts didn't move, but their eyes brightened. Memories flickered across their forms, smiles, grief, and joy. His voice wove through them like a net, tugging feelings from the dead air.
"They've forgotten how to feel," a whisper said from the curtain behind him.
"Then I'll remind them," Taehyung answered, singing louder. And the ghosts began to glow.
Jungkook's Dream
Jungkook opened his eyes on a battlefield under a purple sky. Shadows surrounded him, monstrous, shapeless things that snarled in silence.
He raised his fists, no weapons. Just his voice. He sang.
The note launched like an arrow, piercing a shadow clean through. It dissolved into light. More came.
He jumped, flipped, and dodged, each move a harmony. Each cry is a weapon. But the shadows kept coming.
"Why me?" he shouted.
"Because your voice carries theirs," a voice answered, one that sounded like every hyung at once.
Behind him, six glowing lights appeared. His brothers. They sang together. And the shadows broke.
__________
Namjoon awoke with a jolt. He gasped, his chest rising rapidly, his skin clammy.
Silver walls around him, a pulsing blue glow, and… silence. Not Earth. Not Seoul. Not his room.
A hiss. To his left, another pod hissed open.
"Hyung?"
It was Jin—blinking, dazed. "Where are we?"
More hisses. One by one, the others awoke, coughing and disoriented, their eyes widening as they looked around the chamber.
Jungkook reached for Jimin. "Hyung, tell me this is still a dream."
Jimin shook his head slowly. "It feels too real."
They looked around. The chamber was silver and blue, humming with low power. Monitors floated midair, flickering with strange glyphs. Outside the viewing window, stars. Endless, unfamiliar constellations.
Namjoon approached a glowing console.
"SS… Bangtan?" he read aloud.
Then came the voice. Smooth. Mechanical. Female. But not human.
[Cadence AI: All crew units successfully awakened. Welcome aboard SS-BANGTAN. Time since departure: 287 years. Destination: variable. Emotional synchronization confirmed.]
Silence fell.
"Did it just say 287 years?" Jin asked slowly.
Yoongi rubbed his face. "No, no, no. What is this?"
Taehyung stepped to the window and whispered, "We're not on Earth…"
Namjoon looked at each of them. He felt the weight of leadership settle over his shoulders again.
"This isn't just a dream anymore," he said. "We've crossed into something else."
Jungkook whispered what they were all thinking.
"Are we still… us?"
Namjoon met his eyes. "We'll find out. Together."