Choosing a band name was supposed to be one of those fun, easy decisions—the kind you make after a few laughs and some casual brainstorming. But as Shino sat with the rest of the band at Aki's apartment, she could feel the pressure building. This was their identity, the first real step toward cementing themselves as something more than just a group of girls jamming in a room. It was the name that would be shouted by fans, printed on posters, and shouted over the noise of festivals. The weight of it was suddenly much heavier than Shino had anticipated.
They had been at it for hours. Mika had suggested something ridiculous like "ThunderPants" (which no one could take seriously), and Kanna's ideas were too abstract to make sense. Aki had been all over the place, throwing out names like "Rogue Echo" and "Shadow Chorus" but none of
them seemed to stick.
"I just don't
know," Shino muttered, leaning back in her chair, her fingers idly tracing
the edge of her guitar case.
"I mean, how do you pick something that
sounds… right?"
The apartment was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioning, and the occasional clink of
glass as they all sipped on whatever drinks they had brought with them. It was late—too late for any of them to be thinking clearly.
Aki, who had been
pacing around the small living room, suddenly stopped, her hand running through her hair.
"What if we just… stop overthinking it? I mean, we're a band, right? We just need something that feels right."
Mika, who had been scrolling through her phone, chimed in with a thoughtful expression.
"It has to sound cool, like something you'd want to yell at a concert. Something
people will remember."
"I agree,"
Kanna added softly, her usual calm demeanor not disturbed by the growing tension in the room.
"But it should also mean something. Something deeper."
There was a moment of silence as they all reflected on Kanna's words. Shino stared at her hands, wondering if this band—this collection of mismatched souls—could ever truly come together in harmony. They had been so different in so many ways. But when
they played, when they made music together, something clicked. A small, quiet hope flickered inside her.
"What if we picked something that was, I don't know, about dreams?" Shino said quietly, not expecting much. She had been toying with the idea of using something ethereal, something that symbolized aspiration and possibility.
"Dare to dream, huh?" Aki laughed, but there was a slight edge to her voice, as if the suggestion had struck a chord.
"I like it. What kind of dream, though? I mean, there are a million ways we could go with this."
"Lucid Dreams," Shino said before she could stop herself. The words felt strange as they left her mouth, almost like they were a part of her, something that had always been there, waiting to be spoken.
The room fell silent.
"Lucid Dreams?" Mika repeated slowly, turning the name over in her mind.
"That's... actually kind of beautiful. It sounds like we're awake in a dream, or making our own reality. It's deep, you know?"
Shino watched as the others processed it. It wasn't just the name that she felt attached —it was the idea. They were lucid in their pursuit of
music, aware of the challenges ahead, but still dreaming big, still reaching for something beyond the ordinary. It was the kind of name that could be shouted from a stage, screamed from the crowd, and echoed in the minds of
everyone who heard it. A name that could feel both personal and universal.
"I think it's perfect," Kanna said, breaking the silence with her usual calm authority.
"It speaks to what we are. A dream, but one we can shape and control."
Aki grinned, clearly satisfied with the suggestion.
"Lucid Dreams it is. You know what? It
sounds like a band that's got something to prove, something that's going to take the world by storm."
Shino felt a strange sense of pride surge through her at the idea of having a name that meant something. It was more than just a label; it was a declaration. The four of
them, united under this banner, would forge something real. The dream they were
chasing was no longer just a fantasy in the back of Shino's mind—it was something tangible, something to be shared with the world.
As they all agreed on the name, Shino realized something else. This band wasn't just about the music. It was about the bond they shared—the understanding that they were all chasing something bigger than themselves, even if none of them knew what it would look like in the end.
The conversation shifted from the name to other details—practical things, like logos and how they'd present themselves online. But Shino's mind kept drifting back to thename, to Lucid Dreams. It felt like an anchor, a touchstone in a world where so much was uncertain.
She could almost picture it: the lights, the stage, the crowd screaming the name back at them. "Lucid Dreams" wasn't just a name—it was a vision. And for the first time in a long while, Shino felt like she was ready to chase it, no matter how impossible it might seem.
The hours passed quickly, the conversation becoming less about the name and more about the possibilities that lay ahead. They started discussing what they wanted their
first setlist to look like, throwing ideas around for their songs, and dreaming about what their first show might feel like. Shino, despite herself, felt the excitement rising in her chest, pushing back the nerves.
And just like that,the name Lucid Dreams
was more than just a word on a piece of paper. It was a promise. To each other. To themselves. To their music.
They were going to make something of this. And no matter how long it took, no matter how hard itgot, they would always have their dreams.