This can’t be real.

No. There’s no way.

Waking up in a painfully bright room without any entrances or exists, dressed in clothes that aren’t your own… and nothing else around than a diary to write your thought process in…

That’s the stuff of nightmares, not reality.

Surely…

I just need to sleep longer.

Yes.

Sleep and wake up.

Next to my husband. Drenched in sweat probably, maybe crying, but immediately calmed down by his arms around me and his voice whispering to go back to sleep, that it was just a bad dream.

I can almost hear it already.

“Go back to sleep”, it almost whispers in the distant.

I will, hunny. I will.