We all know the power of a grudge. It lingers, festering in the dark corners of our minds. But what happens when a grudge transcends the waking world and seeps into the realm of dreams?

In my line of work as a Dream Technician, I’ve seen firsthand how resentment can poison the mind, twisting dreams into nightmares. I’ve always prided myself on my ability to let things go, to maintain the calm detachment necessary for navigating the chaotic landscape of the subconscious.

But that was before 6:23 AM. Before him.

The Glitch

Every morning at 6:23 AM, my eyes snap open. It’s not natural. It’s not an alarm. It’s a glitch in my brain. And it’s all because of him.

Three years ago, I was deep in someone else’s nightmare. A routine job. Garden variety stuff – falling endlessly, teeth crumbling, showing up naked to work. The usual.

I reached in, ready to untangle the knot of fear.

That’s when I saw him. Another technician.

He was tall. Impossibly tall. His suit was the color of television static, constantly shifting. 

In my decade on the job, I’d never encountered another dream technician in the dream I was servicing. 

He was hunched over the dreamer, his fingers weaving complex patterns in the air. The nightmare wasn’t an accident. He was crafting it, feeding it, making it grow.

“Hey!” I shouted. Bad move.

He turned, his yellow eyes blazing with fire. In that moment, I knew I’d stumbled onto something I shouldn’t have.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he turned to me and curled his lips in a wide wrong smile.

I ran. Didn’t matter where. In dreams, direction is meaningless. But he followed, leisurely. Taking his time.

I felt his fingers grasp at my essence, trying to unravel me like a cheap sweater. In desperation, I dove into the nearest dream I could find. A kid’s dream of flying. 

I woke up gasping, drenched in sweat. The clock read 6:23 AM.

Ever since that day, my internal clock has been stuck. Every morning, 6:23 AM, I jolt awake. It doesn’t matter if I go to bed at 8 PM or 4 AM. 

6:23 AM, I see his face.

At first, I blamed him entirely – that wrong, wrong smile haunting my thoughts.

But as days turned to weeks, and weeks to years, my grudge shifted.

Now, it’s the malfunction itself I resent.

This glitch, this hiccup in my perception of time and reality, has become my nemesis.

This curse is a constant reminder that I’m no longer in control of my own mind.

But here’s the thing about curses and grudges: they work both ways. That 6:23 wake-up call?

It’s also my daily reminder that there’s more going on in the dream world than I ever suspected.

Someone’s corrupting nightmares, weaponizing them. And I’m the only one who knows.

So yeah, I wake up at 6:23 AM every damn day, cursing the malfunction.

And every day, I use that time to search, to investigate.

I’ll find a way to break this glitch. And when I do, I’ll be ready for him.

6:23 AM? That’s my domain now. And I’m done being a prisoner to this malfunction.

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