His eyes opened wide.
He shook his head fiercely, as if to break out of a trance he was in. He didn't know how else to describe the feeling except to say that it was real.
He had no control. He couldn't hold down the reins. He knew it was coming but he couldn't dodge it. He wanted to block it but he was not mentally and emotionally strong enough, though he would never admit this to anyone. If this goes on, he would fail. The dark nebulous cloud of fear. It was moving in, and moving in fast. His heart skipped a beat, over and over again, like a long, scratch on a CD. The same, unfinished word, delayed on unwelcomed repeat.
There was a white, grand, and pure flash in his bedroom just before he woke, or before he thought he woke; he wasn’t sure if he was even sleeping. The flash faded out, slowly. The ceiling, the walls, his dresser, and his bed; they were all restored again.
That's when he opened his eyes.
He knew exactly where he was, yet his room never felt so unfamiliar, and his apartment, so discomforting. The moment the flash hit, all that was flooding his mind while in his dream-like state had now vanished. There was nothing left. Nothing except for the feeling of real that wouldn't go away.
He was alone, but not lonely. He was alone in his mind, and seemingly nothing could help his mind feel less alone. He begrudgingly sat up on the edge of his bed, blankets disorderly around him, and a fallen pillow on the floor. He wondered if he was dreaming. If this was still a dream. He thought about how common this feeling was for other people and wondered if he was alone in this.
The bedroom was dark except for a pale blue, early evening glow lingering in from the only window in the room. Smoothing out his disheveled hair, he stood on his feet and walked out of the room.
