How often do I resort to falling. She was falling, again, again, again. Falling forever, waiting to hit the ground. Again, the ground never came, instead a sudden wakening and realization that it was all just a dream.

When she went into work that morning, she was still in quite a cloudy state, eyes misted over into the artificial world her subconscious mind presented to her every night. It was like walking blind. Like having each foot in a different world. Sure, she was present. Literally, she was physically there. But her mind, her mind was elsewhere, floating off into unknown regions. Every now and then she would snap out of it, only to sink back in a few minutes later. Her various acquaintances paid her no attention, for the most part. People came in, and came out. Who exactly they were she couldn’t say. She went through the routines of a work day, drifting, drifting away.

When she returned to her apartment that night, the clouds had started to evaporate, and her mind was more concentrated on the moment. It had been a long, strange, day. Exhausted, she fixed some dinner and sank down into the sofa. Click, click, click. The room was almost too silent, and the click of her old-fashioned analog clock was almost too loud. She was developing a headache. A cacophonic symphony began to bloom around her, billowing up and drowning her with noise. The pounding in her head was so loud, so persistent. She decided to go to bed.

As she drifted off, as she entered the dizzying spiral down into darkness, she was caught, suspended for a minute between reality and imagination. Stuck for a time, without time and without measure. Bubbles of thought came to mind, one at a time, only to pop at the surface. Once again, she was falling, falling, falling, into the never ending chasm of her thought. And she wondered, as do I, was it all just a dream?