The remnants of the daylight were receding over the horizon as I waited at the bus stop. There was no sound to be heard beside distant cicadas and leaves rustling in the wind. The air was warm and humid, an itchy type of heat. When the bus did arrive, it lurched to a stop that produced an ear-piercing screech. I got on, nodded to the bus driver as I paid, and sat down. There was one other person on the bus, crammed in the back row with an assortment of shopping bags. I took a window seat, and laid back. The bus took off, and I stared into the mostly desolate marshland that was Florida.
I rested my head against the window. The vibrations from the glass were somewhat painful, but eventually I was too tired to even register it. The black landscape soon faded into darkness as I shut my eyes.
Thinking is useless in the dream scape, all you can do is pretend you’re actually there. Even if none of it makes any sense. But I always knew when I was dreaming.
So I knew when I was dreaming, that my physical body was still on the bus, when I found myself in a cold, tiled room. Even when I left the room, I would enter another identical room. I kept walking for what felt like hours, and I opened more doors than I had ever seen in my life.
I also knew I was dreaming when I found myself sitting in front of a computer screen, mindlessly typing and typing and typing. I didn’t even know what I was typing, as I couldn’t read it. So I sat for hours in front of this computer screen, unable to distinguish the words. All I could register was the feeling of the chair under my legs, and the feeling of my keyboard against my fingers.
The dream continued when I found myself in a waiting room. The announcer kept repeating names to come up, but I was the only one in the room. But they never called my name. The announcer continued calling names, and got louder and louder with each one, until they were shouting.
Then I was in the middle of the swamp. It was dark, and wet, so I marched forth through the swamp. I noticed a streetlight in the distance, and walked in its direction. I finally made it to a small, dimly lit area. There was a person sitting at the bus station. I tried to get a better look at them, and stepped closer. Their face looked familiar. Very familiar. I stepped out of the bush, and looked at them. They turned to face me and called out, “Hello?”
“Are you m — ”
“Hey, it’s time to wake up, this is the last stop,” the bus driver said to me, in a worried tone.
I rested my head against the window. The vibrations from the glass were somewhat painful, but eventually I was too tired to even register it. The black landscape soon faded into darkness as I shut my eyes.
Thinking is useless in the dream scape, all you can do is pretend you’re actually there. Even if none of it makes any sense. But I always knew when I was dreaming.
So I knew when I was dreaming, that my physical body was still on the bus, when I found myself in a cold, tiled room. Even when I left the room, I would enter another identical room. I kept walking for what felt like hours, and I opened more doors than I had ever seen in my life.
I also knew I was dreaming when I found myself sitting in front of a computer screen, mindlessly typing and typing and typing. I didn’t even know what I was typing, as I couldn’t read it. So I sat for hours in front of this computer screen, unable to distinguish the words. All I could register was the feeling of the chair under my legs, and the feeling of my keyboard against my fingers.
The dream continued when I found myself in a waiting room. The announcer kept repeating names to come up, but I was the only one in the room. But they never called my name. The announcer continued calling names, and got louder and louder with each one, until they were shouting.
Then I was in the middle of the swamp. It was dark, and wet, so I marched forth through the swamp. I noticed a streetlight in the distance, and walked in its direction. I finally made it to a small, dimly lit area. There was a person sitting at the bus station. I tried to get a better look at them, and stepped closer. Their face looked familiar. Very familiar. I stepped out of the bush, and looked at them. They turned to face me and called out, “Hello?”
“Are you m — ”
“Hey, it’s time to wake up, this is the last stop,” the bus driver said to me, in a worried tone.