For those of you who were students during the 1990s, you might find some items nostalgic.

    This is longer than usual (1.5)

    Remembering my previous life, I was surprised to find that the way I dreamed was the same as before.

    The dreams I see are easily recognizable because of their phenomenal perspective.

    Whether they''re fantasies or mere reconstructions of facts, I am aware that they are dreams, and perhaps because I know that I am dreaming, I am somewhat calm and can remember the content clearly.

    It was the opposite of my husband, who was so realistic that he was swept away by his dreams.

    My husband''s dreams were colorful and full of realistic sensations that heightened his five senses, and he often had nightmares.

    When this happened, I would wake him up and force him to end the dream. Then, half-asleep, he would explain to me what the dream was about.

    -”Ugh … thanks … If you hadn''t woken me up, I would have been killed …

    Today I was attacked by some kind of … zombie and I fought back with my … friends and…”

    -"It was bad … This time, we were hunting demons. Demons are so strong…”

    -“My friends kept falling down. I was the last one to go…”

    My husband liked war, zombies, and other graphic movies and dramas, but I am not at all fond of such things and never watch them.

    I can''t help but wonder if nightmares are the reason I suffer from such images, but the timing is so random that I don''t see the relevance.

    My husband was frequently in mortal danger in his dreams, and each time I became his savior and woke him up.

    Such were my dreams, even when I was reborn as Rebecca, they took the same step back.

    Today''s dream was of my former life, of my husband.

    We were classmates in junior high school.

    We were in the same class in the third year when I exchanged words with him for the first time.

    Because it was in the countryside, the junior high school was a multi-level school made up of three elementary schools in the area. Children often took more than 30 minutes to walk to school, a lot of the students would commute by bicycles. Some of my friends complained, "The school in the next city is closer!”

    At the time, there were nine classes of 40 students. It was possible that I wouldn’t even know his face until the last day, but I did recognize him. He was the head of the kendo club.