Writing Prompt: A man lives an entire life in a dream. When he 'dies', he wakes up. He isn't living the same life he believed was reality within the dream.

The skies were often overcast and the town was interconnected and white. Everyone was wired up to their own little machines, and everyone, all of us, were in religious suits. Even the kids. Though I wasn't sure anymore if I was one of them. People only spoke softly, as though they might've forgotten how to yell, or even, began to forget themselves. And if things weren't so peaceful, it might've been an injustice, to intelligence, or to growth, or whatever both would be if they were the same thing. But substance and the ability to see the difference between objects was often lost in a fog of bright lights and murky voices.

I began to grow tired of it all and bang on the windows. I slammed them with my fists but they all seemed impenetrable. People would come up to me, all of them very kind and calm, and ask me what I was doing. I told them I was searching for a weak window, and that I wanted to get away, and see the world. They probably thought I was harmless, but also too ambitious, and they always seemed to disappear like ghosts when I talked to them too much.

I was always afraid of the abandoned sixth floor of my home building from the rumors I heard. People who went up were said to never return, while most others, especially adults, simply denied the existence of the sixth floor. My despair was growing though, and one night from the stairs or the elevator, I made my way up to that empty area, which looked like it was for maintenance workers or part of some abandoned construction. Among the dust and echoes of my footsteps, I turned a corner, or two, and I found a dirty pane of glass with no light outside. I was afraid. But I squeezed my eyes down, and ran, and screamed: crashing through the window like an angry football player with the full force of my body.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself hooked up to wires. I was weak, too weak to get out of the bed I was in, so instead I tried to make out the murky conversation I was hearing. It was coming from some other part of the hospital.

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