I still kept typing on the keyboard, but my forehead suddenly hit the table.
The man with glasses at the work station next to me turned to look at me and muttered something, as if to say that I was stupid for working overtime. I wanted to reply, "You are the only one who talks a lot," but my whole body was dragged into another space by a force.
That gray and white world.
There is no sky, no ground, only white nothingness extending infinitely in all directions. I stood in mid-air, stepping on an invisible transparent plane under my feet. Looking down, I could see that I was wearing the plaid shirt that had been washed white today.
I froze for a moment, then realized I was dreaming.
People usually don't have this kind of conscious awareness in dreams, but I know it very clearly now. I could feel the sweat stains on my back, smell the half-cup of instant coffee left in the office, and even hear my own heartbeat—these details were so real that I doubted this was a dream at all.
But I did fall asleep.
I looked at the empty white space in front of me, and a thought flashed through my mind: If this is a dream, can I create something?
The next second, a chair appeared in front of me.
