POV: Time Variance Authority

"I'm thinking, Elias," Gavin insisted as he roughly pulled Elias closer. "You know, in the field of psychology, I'm hardly an expert. Everything I told you earlier—that stuff about the subconscious—came from a psychologist's social media feed."

"You remember that psychologist, right? The one I mentioned from my car-buying client's contacts?" Gavin said, unlocking his phone and showing Elias the profile. On the screen was a photo Elias recognized: a middle-aged woman in a white coat with gentle eyes, her hair touched with silver, dressed in a clean, professional manner that immediately inspired trust.

"So, you're planning to take me to see her?" Elias asked, blinking slowly.

"Exactly!" Gavin replied enthusiastically.

"Not that I need a shrink—I'm not sick, so spare me the worry," Elias protested, waving his hand dismissively. He knew his own state better than anyone, though Gavin's concern was obvious.

"Come on, just listen. Dr. Elizabeth Morgan is top-notch—her specialty is the subconscious, dream analysis, and cognitive studies. Instead of us endlessly puzzling over your dream, wouldn't it be smarter to let an expert explain it all in a few words?" Gavin said, scrolling through Dr. Morgan's impressive credentials on his phone. "Her consultation fee of three thousand an hour is proof of her expertise and authority."

"Three thousand an hour?" Elias nearly sprang to his feet. "Then why not just rob her clinic if it's that expensive?"

"Hey, don't get carried away—money isn't the issue here. I've already taken care of it," Gavin said, pulling Elias back down to the couch. "For your sake, consider this an investment in your mental health. After all, the World Cup winnings are nothing compared to what you'll gain by having a clear mind."

"I've already set up an appointment," Elias replied with a resigned smile. "Let's go, then."

***

An hour later, Gavin dragged Elias to Dr. Morgan's clinic—a serene lakeside villa nestled in a prestigious university town, far from the hustle of the city.

"This place is something else," Gavin remarked softly, his voice filled with awe as he whispered, "I heard these villas are worth millions."

Elias simply shook his head as they approached the entrance. The sign on the door simply read "Dr. Morgan's Psychological Services." Inside, the décor was unmistakably European: rich, original wood furniture, soft natural light filtering through tall windows, and in one corner, a cozy fireplace crackled quietly. The ambience was calming, almost meditative.

A gentle, soothing voice called out, "Are you Mr. Crane? Please come this way."

Elias and Gavin followed the sound down a corridor into a spacious room furnished with a large, inviting wooden recliner and a few neatly arranged chairs. Sunlight streamed in, bathing the room in warm hues that softened every edge. Near the window sat a refined oak desk where Dr. Elizabeth Morgan herself was waiting. Her smile was warm, reminiscent of a kindly mentor. Her presence exuded both professionalism and genuine care, making one feel immediately at ease.

"Mr. Crane, please lie down on the recliner. Let's begin by just chatting—nothing formal, just getting to know you a bit better," she said in a voice as gentle as a lullaby.

Elias complied, settling into the chair as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Soon, Dr. Morgan engaged him in a calm, measured conversation—asking about his age, work, family, and relationships. Elias answered openly, finding no reason to withhold such basic details.

As their conversation progressed, the subject turned to the recurring dream that so haunted Elias. Yet, when it came to the core of his bizarre experiences, Elias chose not to reveal everything. Some things, he felt, were beyond the scope of a standard psychological consultation.

Dr. Morgan diligently recorded his responses in a sleek leather-bound notebook. When the conversation wound down, she looked up, her eyes earnest and probing.

"Mr. Crane," she inquired softly, "are you absolutely certain you can distinguish between dream and reality?"

Elias hesitated before nodding. "Absolutely, Dr. Morgan. I've never confused the two. When I wake, it's clear that I'm in the real world. That's common sense, isn't it?"

Dr. Morgan offered a knowing smile. "Do not underestimate this issue. Even today, no definitive method exists to perfectly separate dreams from reality. Much of what we discern relies on intuition and our subconscious recollections. Most people never realize they're dreaming until they suddenly wake up—those rare instances we call lucid dreams."

Elias frowned. "I've never had a moment where I doubted—I always know when I'm dreaming. My nightly loop is unmistakable. When I step into that familiar square, I know exactly what's happening."

Dr. Morgan nodded thoughtfully while jotting down a final note. "That is unusual, Mr. Crane. Your ability to clearly recall your dream from start to finish, and its uncanny resemblance to reality, is both fascinating and potentially dangerous. Because if one day, the boundaries between these two realms were to blur completely, imagine the consequences."

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