Michael was strapped into the passenger seat of a roaring race car. His fingers dug into the leather as the world outside blurred past at terrifying speeds. 

The driver beside him was faceless, mechanical in precision. But it was the woman in the backseat who unsettled him most. Her uniform was crisp, her presence calm—like some kind of safety officer or nurse.

They drove until the car lurched to a halt in a place shrouded in darkness and twisted shadows. As Michael climbed out, his boots met uneven ground, and his pulse quickened.

From the fog emerged a beautiful woman, her voice sweet and hypnotic. Her eyes locked onto his, drawing him forward with a power beyond desire.

“Come with me,” she whispered, her voice like honeyed poison.

“No!” The woman from the car spoke sharply, cutting through the enchantment. “If you go with her, you’ll die.”

Michael snapped out of his trance, stumbling backwards. The siren’s smile faded, replaced by something far more sinister. The shadows stirred with her frustration, birthing creatures with gleaming eyes and claws like razors.

Then, another figure emerged—a tall, muscular man, Korean-looking, his features unnervingly perfect. The nurse’s breath hitched.

“Don’t be fooled!” Michael shouted, slamming the car door against the apparition before it could weave its spell. The man’s flawless smile twisted into a snarl before he dissolved into mist.

More monsters appeared and lunged. Their teeth snapped, their claws tore at the air. Michael’s knees threatened to buckle. But then, he saw them.

Hats. Scattered across the ground, each one calling to him.

He snatched the first—a sleek helmet that enveloped his head in a cool, calming focus. Power coursed through his fists as he struck down the creatures with a courage he never knew he possessed.

A second hat, a wide-brimmed explorer’s hat, granted him agility and precision. He moved like lightning, outmanoeuvring even the quickest foes.

The monsters kept coming, their forms growing more grotesque. Each time, a new hat gave him the skills he needed to survive—a soldier’s helmet for strength, a scholar’s cap for strategy, a crown for wide-range attacks.

But as he fought, a realisation crept in. The monsters felt… familiar.

They weren’t just external threats. They felt like fragments of himself.

Finally, he stood over the last of them, his chest heaving, hands trembling. He tore off the final hat, tossing it aside. Then, as if gravity had been switched back on, his body started to feel heavy. And the world blurred to white.

Michael’s eyes fluttered open to the harsh glow of fluorescent lights. His body felt heavy, each breath an effort. The hospital room was silent, sterile.

Memories flooded back. He had collapsed not long after the hostile takeover that had stolen his company from him. The stress, the panic, the crushing weight of betrayal —it had driven him to the brink.

The dream had been more than a nightmare. It had been a battle. And somehow, he had won.

But what had he really been fighting?

The monsters were his own demons. They were his obsession with control, his fears of inadequacy, his guilt over neglecting his family, his desperation for validation. His true enemies had always been within.

Before the coma, his life had been a frantic race.

Every morning, Michael woke at 5:00 AM, silencing his alarm with a clenched fist. He’d grab his diary, scribbling down his missions for the day, trying to force chaos into order. His morning routine was relentless. Business podcasts poured through his headphones during his commute, his mind always sprinting ahead to the next deal, the next big move.

Meetings were battles. Negotiations were wars. His phone was a lifeline he dared not ignore.

At home, he wore the hat of the ‘present father’—attending Emily’s school plays, kicking a ball around with Ben. But even then, his attention was fractured, his phone buzzing with crises he couldn’t leave alone.

On Sundays, he would slip into church with his family, just in time for the opening song. His faith was a checkbox, a ritual performed out of habit rather than devotion.

He was always on the go, juggling roles, trying to be everything to everyone. And yet, he was never truly present for the things that mattered most, his family, his foundation. 

Now, lying in that hospital bed, the truth settled over him like a gentle rain.

The hostile takeover had ripped away his company, his identity, his purpose. But maybe that wasn’t a tragedy. Maybe it was a gift.

Losing everything had stripped away the masks, the titles, the endless striving. And beneath it all, Michael was still there. The man he had been running from all along.

Two weeks later, Michael returned home—still physically weak, but with a clarity he had never known.

His old morning routine had been about control, about imposing order on a life spinning out of his grasp. Now, it was about rebuilding something real. Something simple. Something meaningful.

He sat with his diary. Something new came out of him:

Mission 1: Reconnect with God. Let faith guide me. Mission 2: Truly listen to Sarah. Mission 3: Be truly there for Emily and Ben—fully present.

Instead of business podcasts, he filled his mornings with Bible study, meditation and prayer.

With Sarah, he was relearning the art of being a loving husband. She had stood by him for more than just his success—she had loved him for who he truly was, flaws and all.

He was also showing up for his children—not just physically, but emotionally. He listened to Emily’s dreams, cheered at Ben’s football matches, and laughed with them in a way he hadn’t in years.

And his faith? It was no longer a checkbox. It was his foundation.

Then, a realisation struck him. The dream he had—could it have been pointing him to the spiritual armour in Ephesians chapter 6? All the hats… different versions of the helmet of salvation?

Perhaps the answer had never been to wear a dozen hats, trying to be everything all at once. The ultimate goal was to wear but one: the hat of a man who was finally, truly himself—his mind protected and steeled by power from above, instead of his own.