The alarm clock blared, its shrill tone slicing through the hushed stillness of the dimly lit room. Elias blinked, his vision unfocused as he reached out, silencing the relentless noise. Another day, the same routine—nothing ever changed. He sat on the edge of his bed, fingers pressing against his temples, trying to grasp the fading remnants of a dream slipping through his consciousness like grains of sand.

For a fleeting moment, he strained to hold onto it. There was something deeply unsettling—shadows that twisted unnaturally, voices murmuring in a language just beyond his understanding. Yet, as always, the more he tried to recall, the more the details unraveled.

With a weary sigh, Elias rose, navigating his small apartment with habitual precision. The fluorescent kitchen light flickered slightly as he switched it on, casting an anemic glow over the counter. He poured himself a cup of coffee, watching the steam curl and dissipate, his thoughts still mired in the haze of sleep. Beyond his window, the city moved in its usual rhythm—horns blaring, hurried footsteps, the indistinct murmur of conversations.

Everything was normal.

And yet, something felt irrevocably off.

As he lifted the coffee to his lips, a sound pricked at the edge of his awareness. Faint, almost imperceptible—a breath, a whisper that seemed to graze his ear. He turned sharply, pulse quickening, but there was nothing. Just his empty living room, frozen in the same familiar stillness.

Elias exhaled, shaking his head. Perhaps he was still groggy, echoes of his dream bleeding into waking reality. A glance at the clock—7:42 AM. Time to shake it off.

The hours drifted past in a numbing haze. The office, as always, was devoid of vitality, its sterile fluorescence casting a pall over rows of desks and weary faces. His work—data processing—was a monotony of numbers, reports, and emails that blurred together into a meaningless loop.

Yet, the feeling persisted. That insidious sense of wrongness, creeping at the periphery of his mind. At first, it was minor—a flickering light that pulsed in an unfamiliar rhythm, a colleague's voice shifting subtly mid-sentence.

Then came the reflections.

It began in the restroom mirror. Elias, rinsing his hands, glanced up casually—only to freeze. His reflection lagged, the movement delayed by the barest fraction of a second. A flicker, subtle but undeniable. His breath caught as he took a step closer, his own gaze locking onto itself.

Then, in an instant, the anomaly was gone. His reflection moved in sync once more, as if nothing had happened.

A hollow chuckle escaped his lips. Lack of sleep—surely, that was it.

But as the day wore on, reality continued to crack. Shadows stretched at impossible angles, whispers coiled through empty hallways, clocks ticked unnaturally slow when he watched too long.

By the time he returned home that evening, exhaustion wrapped around him like a shroud. He collapsed onto his couch, exhaling sharply. Perhaps it was just his mind playing tricks. Stress, fatigue—logical explanations existed.

And yet...

What if they didn't?

As sleep's embrace tightened around him, a single thought took root in his mind.

What if he wasn't awake at all?