It was the usual dream- he trying helplessly to reach somewhere but not reaching anywhere. He woke up with a start – he was anxious, uncertain and nervous. He peered at the clock; he could not find the numbers; they had fallen like dead leaves.
Am I still dreaming?
He took a few sips of cold water and looked at all the odd things lying on the table. He again looked at the clock. Numbers were lying cluttered at the bottom. He shook it and heard a sigh.
It’s a dream.
And he went back to sleep
Word count 97
Written for Friday Fictioneers on a photo prompt hosted by Rochelle Wisoff