The spring breeze blew onto my face as I stood in my school's middle school indoor gym. I watched kids run around. In the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a gem, sparkling under the daylight. Her smile was like a torch that lighted up the room. Suddenly, a shade of evil casted itself onto her. It was him, the Korean bad boy with the emo hair, his smile twisted into the shape of an anchor, as he fixated himself onto my baby. No, no, no! Like a lid on a boiling pot, my anger accumulated as I walked in his direction - just as he began spreading his venom into my innocent mice. I raised my fist, the knuckles of which turned as hard as steel, up in front of me. I grabbed the demon's shoulder and threw a sky uppercut, the strength of which was driven by my persistent will and the incessant crying of my Snow White princess.

"F*CK!!! WHY'D YOU F*CKING PUNCH ME?" a shout ringed next to me.

The pain of my bedmate M resounded through the room in which CJ, I, M, and A were jammed in for the duration of ISEF.

"Michael! What's wrong with you!" whined CJ.

I sat up, staring into my sinful fist which had mistook my bedmate as my girl thief.

As expected, we all woke up and my roommates continued to make a big deal out of this all through ISEF, but to be honest this was hilarious in its own right. CJ in particular used it to substantiate his argument that I have mental problems.

---

A few days later

"...and now, for second place in the category of mathematics (there was a three-way tie), with a $1500 cash award and the opportunity to name an asteroid in their honor..."

"...from Shanghai, China, Michael Sun and Carl Joshua Quines!"

I stood up calmly next to a CJ-with-his-brains-blown-off, who proceeded to jumping-jack his way to the stage. This must be a dream, I thought, so why not make some fun out of it? I reminded myself of the celebration pose I had prepared the night prior in front of a cynical CJ. At first, I wanted to go with the famed LeBron James chest pat, but due to it being taken by another contestant during the special award ceremony, decided to come up with a Russell Westbrook + Steph Curry combo celebration pose. Unfortunately, the hysterical CJ must've sent a ghost shock through the camera man, who refused to budge in our direction until we were right before him, so by the time I got there I decided to go with my backup celebration - holding up my name tag and pointing to it in front of the camera while saying "remember the name!", which was shown on screen in front of everyone at ISEF.

On stage, I stood at the center line facing a roaring crowd.

Even after, all the congratulations and kind words seem unreal. So I began questioning myself, is this a dream?

---

The thing is, you see, the explanation is right in what happened in bed that night.

I've lost the ability to differentiate between dreams and reality, so when my will responded to the hero-save-beauty challenge in my dream, my physical body responded in sync. Similarly, if I dream/vision about something happening, I might as well make it happen, cause nothing feels more like spiritual suicide to me than to let these visions go to waste, or let critics interfere in the way.

...and that's what makes today extra sweet.