The Castle That Tinted the Sea Blue

The Weight That Pulled Me Under

Just as we were heading home, his cousin waved us down. He offered a ride— but said he needed to stop somewhere first.

He showed me a picture.

“I know this,” I said. “This is Inanam, right?”

“No,” he replied. “It’s in Tualang.”

I know that in my dream, I longed to go to that place. I thought it was in Inanam—hence why I brought up the name. It’s funny how I developed emotion like that in a dream — how a memory of that sort appeared in my head.

Tualang?

The name didn’t exist in my world. But I accepted it anyway. A dream doesn’t ask for logic. Just presence.

His cousin drove impossibly fast — like he was chasing something the rest of us couldn’t see. Maybe I should’ve said something. But I didn’t. I was a little puzzled. But I just held on.

I remember the wind kissing my cheeks, my hair flying across my face. Everything felt real—yet surreal at the same time.

The Mansion in the Middle of the Sea

We drove beyond Inanam and arrived somewhere impossibly real. A shallow sea stretched before us—yet you could walk it. Sand trails carved winding paths through the blue like veins.

And there, rising from the middle of it all, stood a tall, crumbling mansion—almost like a fortress.

Not just stone—glass. A single glass wall still intact, glowing. Its soft blue light spilled outward, as if someone had screamed into it and the colors bled into the sea, touching everything.

The Volcano That Breathed

Behind it loomed a volcano.

Massive.

Quiet.

Ancient.

Its mouth visible from where we stood. Surrounded by endless clouds, circling it. I could feel it breathing.

We found a park nearby. My sister was suddenly with us — which was strange, because she hadn’t been in the car. We wandered toward the volcano—not in fear, but reverence.

I remember feeling excited. Ready to take pictures, to prove I had indeed stepped into and witnessed something so magnificent.

Losing the Thread of Reality

Then I remembered.

My phone.

My link to reality.

I turned back. The walk should’ve been easy. But my legs grew heavy. The sand pulled at me. The ground was flat, but it felt like I was climbing something vast.

When I finally reached the park — the car was gone.

Panic.

Waking Up Wrong

And then—

I woke up.

But I wasn’t truly awake. The clock read 6:15 PM. I had missed the school run. I turned to my husband and asked,

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

He just said he forgot. He had taken the car earlier, just to buy some beer.

I rushed outside. The car wasn’t parked how I usually leave it— like someone else had driven it, or like my husband had left something of himself behind.

When I reversed, the mirror caught a pole, spinning the car across the lot.

Another car, like mine, moved to give way.

I pressed forward—

and finally—

Woke up again.

For real this time.

Tualang Stayed With Me

4:43 PM.

I wasn’t late. But my body remembered the dread.

And my soul remembered Tualang.

Author’s Note:
Tualang doesn’t exist on the map.
But it lives somewhere between memory and meaning.
A glowing mansion, a sea laced with sorrow, a volcano that waits.
Maybe it was a message.
Or maybe it was a mirror.
Either way—I won’t forget it.