Do you remember your dreams? For me, it's a mix kind of thing - sometimes I recall them but most of the time I don't. This, however, was so much more. Where I am is no dream.
My shoes touch the cold grey concrete and it extends as far as the eye could see and beyond. Above me were no clouds, but a pink fleshy ceiling stretching for what appeared to be kilometers.
In my dreams, my brain convinces me that it's all real. I know it's not real. My dreams play like a movie, but when I wake, it's like I'm in a trance. It all felt real, but it wasn't real. In dreams, if I were hurt, I never felt it physically. I never felt my breathing either. In this strange place, I felt both.
I walked a bit slowly and cautiously, constantly looking in all directions, and over my shoulder, there was no sign of anything alive nor any real object. Until I saw small white dots falling down - is this snow?
Once it fell down, I realized that it was a white cigarette. Then another came, and another, and another - 5, 10. Soon, it was raining cigarettes - thousands, hundreds of thousands of them. Oh dear me, all the cigarettes I can smoke for free - thousands! Oh yes, I'm free. This is my paradise. I extended my palms and a cigarette landed on them. I put it in my mouth and it dawned on me.
I have no lighter.