Exploring the Truth Behind Anxiety: Episode 1
- 2025.01.20
- Exploring the Truth Behind Anxiety Reflect

A Subtle Wave of Unease
The warm glow of the setting sun filtered through the classroom windows, blending with the post-lunch drowsiness that crept into the room. It was that time of day when staying awake during lessons felt like a battle against the inevitable. The teacher’s voice faded into a distant hum, and my gaze, fixed on my notebook, began to blur.
In the twilight between wakefulness and sleep, the lines between reality and dreams began to dissolve. The teacher’s voice, so far away, transformed into my own, older and somehow familiar. It echoed with a strange sense of nostalgia as I felt myself sink deeper into an unexplainable calm.
Then, out of nowhere, a heavy sensation gripped my abdomen. The serene warmth I’d felt moments before peeled away, replaced by a creeping unease that wrapped around me like a shadow. The abruptness of it jolted me back to reality. My heart raced as I sat there, unsure if I had fully returned to the waking world.
As I tried to shake off the remnants of the dream, I reached into my desk drawer instinctively. My fingers brushed against something thin and unfamiliar. It wasn’t my usual notebook or textbook—it felt like paper. Curious, I pulled it out, revealing a plain white envelope. A love letter? No, it seemed too simple for that.
Carefully, I opened it, ensuring no one around me noticed. Inside was a piece of paper, hastily scrawled with pencil. My eyes were immediately drawn to the unsettling words written across it:
“Chain Letter of Misfortune”
The moment I read the words, time seemed to stand still. A chill ran down my spine as the rumors circulating in class rushed back to me. Stories about a mysterious “Chain Letter of Misfortune” had been going around, all with the same ominous message: “Pass this letter on, or face something even worse.”
“This can’t be real,” I told myself, yet my chest tightened with an inexplicable dread. I didn’t want to pass the letter along to someone else, but I also feared keeping it. The conflicting emotions weighed heavy in my stomach, leaving an unpleasant knot.
“If I were an adult, I’d probably laugh this off,” I thought. But wasn’t I still a child? Then why did I feel a sense of detachment, as though some adult perspective had seeped into me? This strange contradiction lingered, expanding slowly through my chest like ripples on a still pond.
From afar, a vibration grew louder. Gradually, the classroom faded away, replaced by the blinding light of the present. The vibration clarified into the sound of my phone’s alarm.
It had all been a dream.
Even as I silenced the alarm, the vivid image of the classroom and the weight in my abdomen remained, as if the dream had followed me into waking life. The uneasy feeling, though still faintly lingering, began to dissipate as I rose from bed and made my way to the living room.
I skipped breakfast, as always. Since childhood, I had never enjoyed eating in the mornings. The common wisdom about breakfast being the most important meal of the day didn’t resonate with me. During my younger years, my mother would insist, “You must eat your breakfast,” and I’d reluctantly comply. But now, living on my own, breakfast was a thing of the past.
Sipping a hot cup of coffee, I idly switched on the TV. The morning news transitioned from the weather forecast to the next segment. On the screen, an anchor introduced a story about a “bank merger,” accompanied by the familiar logo of my bank.
This was the same bank where my former employer had deposited my paycheck each month. Even now, I used it for direct debits and occasional cash withdrawals—a modest but reliable presence in my life.
Staring at the news, a thought popped into my head: “A merger? Lately, I’ve heard terms like ‘bankruptcy’ and ‘frozen accounts,’ but they always seemed like problems from another country or another era.” Yet, I couldn’t completely dismiss it this time. The merger involved my bank. For the first time, I found myself intrigued. “Could this really affect me? Probably not… right?”
Even as I brushed it off, the unsettling heaviness from my dream resurfaced in my chest. The connection between the dream and the news felt inexplicably significant, like a riddle I couldn’t quite solve.
Draining the last of my coffee, I glanced at the clock. Time was slipping away. “I need to get going!” I muttered aloud, scrambling to pack my laptop, tablet, and wallet into my bag. Grabbing my car keys, I hurried out the door.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I started the engine. The streets, alive with morning activity, buzzed faintly through the car windows. As I navigated the familiar roads, the anxiety that had gripped me earlier seemed to dissolve like mist in the morning sun. Still, deep within, a faint shadow of that dream remained.
Episode 2: “Shadows of the Past, Echoes of the Future” continues.
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A Mysterious Encounter with Money-san: Final Chapter 2025.01.15
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次の記事
Exploring the Truth Behind Anxiety: Episode 2 2025.01.21