I was sitting in a quiet cafe that floated gently above the ocean, tethered to the waves by hundreds of red balloons. The waiter brought me a menu, but it was blank—until I blinked, and then all the text turned into moving ants that formed the words “Choose your memory.”
I ordered the “Childhood Special,” and instead of food, they served me a tiny replica of my old house made of jelly. I bit into it, and suddenly my teeth started playing piano notes—each molar producing a different tone. A woman at the next table stood up and clapped, saying, “That’s my favorite sonata,” before melting into a puddle of glitter.
Then the cafe began to slowly spin, and a door opened in the floor revealing a spiral staircase made of socks. I climbed down and found myself in a room where every object was floating upside down, including a goldfish that asked me, “Have you forgiven the moon yet?”
I didn’t know what that meant, but I nodded politely. The goldfish winked, and everything around me turned into paper and blew away in the wind. I was left standing on nothing, holding only a single spoon that hummed when I touched it.
Then I woke up with the sound of piano keys still echoing in my ears.
