text: My head hits the surface with a loud thud. I cry out as my eyes snap open into a bright, pink light. I grumble to myself as I realize that I’m sitting in my car, clutching my steering wheel. Huh? My head must’ve drooped down and hit the wheel. Did I fall asleep driving again? I glance down and see that my car is in drive, but it’s not moving. I look back up. Vibrant hues of peach and pink paint the dusk sky, with puffy clouds persisting overhead. My car rests on a long road, stretching out straight for miles disappearing into the horizon. Either side of the road are empty, open fields of red dirt. The concrete road looks almost purple from the bright sky. I furrow my brows. I’ve never been here before. I must’ve gotten tired and, not paying attention, drove in this direction. It wouldn’t be the first time. I’ve been spending too much time at the office, and way too much time staring at spreadsheets. But it looks like it’ll be late soon. I need to make sure the team’s presentations are ready for next week. I need to finish working, which means I need to head home. Whatever direction that is. I reach for my purse in the passenger’s seat and pull out my phone. I try to turn it on to use the GPS. But the screen doesn’t light. I press all the buttons as many times as I can before my fingers get tired, but nothing happens. I groan and toss it back into my purse. I guess I’m on my own for this one. I’ll have to drive until I find someone who can help, or something familiar. I mean, I can’t be that far. But I need to hurry. I press down on the gas pedal. The car lurches forward shakily, rolling down the road and rumbling. I hiss. I know my car is old, but I just had maintenance done on it. Why is it doing this to me now? I hit the gas again but I barely go any faster. My car continues to moan as it moves along the long street. I glance back up at the sky as I drive. I try to plot out what I have to work on when I get home. But I can’t focus. Why is it so bright? I know, light pollution is a thing. But I’ve never seen the sky like this before, so vivid and yet so suffocating. It almost looks... fake. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see them. I almost miss it, since I’m staring up at the pink clouds. But I turn just in time to watch a herd of deer galloping in the distance, in the fields off the right side of the road. They look like deer, lean and agile as they trot off into the horizon. But their skin looks almost too rosy in the bright sky, like they’re actually pink, and they move so fast that it doesn’t really look like they’re running. It looks like they’re floating. I blink, trying to force my eyes to see clearer. But as my eyes reopen, they are too far and their silhouettes fade into the distance. I sigh and turn back to the road. As I do, I notice a man crossing in the middle of the street. I slam on my brakes, my tires screeching, just in time to stop my car from crashing right into him. I scowl, lowering my window and sticking my head out. “What’s wrong with you?!” I snap at him. “Can’t you see where you’re going?” The man hesitates, looking at the ground for a moment. He slowly raises his head to me and our eyes meet. He’s young, probably close to my age. His olive skin glows in the vibrant light and his long, dark hair is disheveled, strands hanging messily in his face. He stares at me for a moment before speaking. “Sorry,” he says in a deep, but still soft, voice. “But you didn’t exactly see me either.” I purse my lips. “I saw you enough to stop before I hit you. What’s your point?” “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He nods. “I’m just... confused. I don’t know where I am.” My first thought is that he’s drunk or high. But then my second thought is that I don’t know where I am either, and I’m pretty sure I’m sober. Yeah, pretty sure... I grip my steering wheel, wanting more than anything to just drive around him. But I don’t. I know I’m confused and I know I’m in a rush but... I can’t. I press a button to unlock my car doors. I motion to him. “Get inside,” I sigh. “I’m lost too. Maybe we can help each other.” He hesitates again. He looks around at the wide, empty field beside us, and then down the long, seemingly endless road. Then he nods and hurries into my passenger seat. I lock the door after him and hit the gas again, my car once again rumbling and quivering down the street. “My name is Aydan,” he says as he clicks on his seatbelt. “Oh.” I wasn’t expecting him to tell me his name. “I’m Elena.” “You look familiar.” I bite my lip. I’ve been staring at him out of the corner of my eyes, wondering the same thing. I know I’ve seen him before. From work? From college? From a night out? I don’t know. He’s so familiar, and yet so not, almost like he’s from a dream. “How did you get here?” I ask. “I don’t remember. I just woke up on the side of the road. And you?” “...I don’t know. I kinda just woke up in my car.” Ayden doesn’t respond. But a tense silence now fills my car. What are the chances of us both waking up here, on a road neither of us know? Then Ayden bolts forward, pointing out the window. “Look at that!” I jump, following his finger. He’s pointing up at the sky. The pink clouds move through the sky, like normal... Except, they’re not normal. They’re practically speeding through the air, swirling into each other and changing hues of pink so fast, it almost hurts my eyes to watch. I hit the brakes and stop the car again. Ayden starts to fly forward but is stopped by the seatbelt. He looks at me, eyes wide and confused. “Something about this isn’t right,” I murmur. Am I talking to him or to myself? “Everything feels so fake, like it’s a dream, but I know I’m awake or... At least I think I am.” “Before you found me, I was staring up at the sky,” Ayden says. “And I saw what I thought were really big birds. But when I looked again, they didn’t look like birds. They looked kinda like people, flying up there.” “Then I have to be dreaming.” “No, if we were dreaming, I would’ve woken up when you almost hit me and scared the crap out of me.” I glare at Ayden but he’s unphased. “We can’t be asleep.” I shake my head. “No, I’m asleep. And you’re just a part of my dream.” Ayden crosses his arms and purses his lips. He’s thinking. He then reaches for my purse, digging through it. I gasp and reach out to stop him. But he pulls out a pen and then catches my wrist, holding it tightly. He uncaps the pen between his teeth and then presses the point into my forearm, so hard that it stings. I wince and try to pull away but I can’t. He drags the pen down, a black, inky mark staining my skin. He then lets me go. “See, I have to be real,” Ayden explains as I glare at him. “If I weren’t, I wouldn’t have been able to do that. Dreams can’t hurt you. But I did.” I look down at the black line on my arm and then back up at him. He offers me a small smile and I can’t help but notice that he’s a little handsome. I grin back at him and nod. Yeah, he has to be right. If this weren’t real, I would’ve woken up by now. I press the gas and the car continues onward. “So, why do you think all of this is happening then?” I ask. “Maybe it’s not.” He shrugs. “Maybe we’re both dehydrated or we both got drugged and left here on the road. I don’t know. I just know I wanna get home.” “Me too.” We drive for a while, mostly in silence. Ayden tries to turn on the radio but nothing happens. We both try our phones, and again, nothing happens. The car continues forward and yet, nothing about the purple road changes. It keeps stretching on and on, without turns or dips or hills or anything. The clouds continue to swirl, and I see more deer in the distance again. But this time, I’m not sure they’re deer. I keep remembering what Ayden said, about the birds looking like people. The deer start to look like people to me too. The only thing that changes is the moon. After a few minutes, we start to see it in the sky, though the pink hues don’t fade or grow any darker. As we continue, the moon seems to get closer and closer, like we’re driving into it and not into the horizon. Soon, it looms over us, right at the foot of the road. “Maybe we should stop,” Ayden says. His voice is quieter than before, soft and scared. “We won’t crash into it,” I argue. “It’s the moon.” “Yeah, but I’ve never seen the moon like that before. I’m just getting a little worried.” “You’re the one who said something must be wrong with us. That can’t be real. Besides, I have to get home. And you said you wanted to go too.” “I know, I know... I just feel anxious right now, and I don’t know why.” Ayden continues to complain, at one point even begging me to stop. But I don’t. It’s not even so much that I’m in a rush or the presentation or anything. I just can’t will myself to stop. The moon is now all we can see, a pale pink so bright in front of us, that it’s practically white. I wonder if Ayden’s right, if I should stop, but I can’t get my foot off the gas. It’s like my lower body refuses to move, to listen. As the white is all I can see, I realize Ayden is quiet. I’m about to turn to him, to ask if he’s okay, when a loud, echoing metallic clang fills my ears. I try to scream but no sound comes out. It’s all white. Just everything... white. --------------------------------------------- “Miss! Miss, stay with me!” My eyes flutter open. The first thing I see is the moon, a small white crescent in the dark, starry sky overhead. Someone is carrying me in strong, sturdy arms. An unfamiliar face looks down at me and smiles. “Oh, thank god,” he says with a heavy sigh. “I thought we lost you.” “...Where...” I choke out, my voice dry and hoarse. It hurts to talk. It hurts to move. It hurts to breathe. “You’re off the freeway,” the man explains. He lays me down gently in a stretcher and I wince. Everything just... hurts. “There was an accident. I think you fell asleep at the wheel, miss. But... I guess that doesn’t matter right now. You need to get to the hospital.” Two people lift my stretcher and roll it into the back of an ambulance. I wince and look at their uniforms. EMTs. It’s bright in the ambulance and I groan. I remember the vibrant, pink sky from my dream. I would rather have that then this white light. My dream... Just a dream. “Who was the victim?” I hear one of the EMTs asking an officer outside of the ambulance as the second EMT starts to hook something up to my arm. I look. It’s an IV. “Some poor guy crossing the street,” a police officer explains. “She didn’t even see him. He was a photographer, Ayden Patel. He didn’t make it.” My eyes snap all the way open and I try to sit up. Both EMTs hurry to me, holding me down and talking to me. But I can’t hear them. All I hear are the sounds of my screaming and the name again and again in my head. Ayden? No, it was my dream. Just a dream. The doors to the ambulance slam shut and we speed forward, while I’m still yelling. One of the EMTs injects something into my arm. I start to get sleepy, feeling myself slip into another dream. No, I don’t wanna sleep again. I don’t want any more dreams. As I lose myself again, I look at my arm where they injected me with some kind of sedative. And I see the black, inky mark still trailing down my forearm.