Sometimes I dream that I am awake.
I am lying in my bed, unable to move, with my eyes staring at the ceiling. The smell of burning olibanum fills my lungs. It is difficult to breathe.
All I can see from the corners of my eyes are the small dresser next to the door and the window, with its drapes closed. Everything looks just as usual. The bottles, the stuffed toys, the dying plants. I have never had a green thumb.
My body feels as if it is made of lead. In my dream, I don't even try moving my limbs because I know I will fail. All I do is breathe and wait.
The afternoon sun caresses the drapes, and some rays wiggle their way past the cream-colored cloth. Dust particles bathe in the yellow light.
I would like to have some fresh air, and come to think of it, the smell is strange. Why would someone burn incense in my apartment? There is no sound, although I really strain to listen.
It feels as if I was the last person on earth - unable to move, trapped in my own body, with only dust and sunlight as company.
The smell makes me want to puke.