Steve wakes up startled as a loud crash shatters his dream. Looking around he finds himself lying on the sofa in his front room and, after examining his surroundings for the source of the racket, finds the remnants of his meal mixed into shards of porcelain and plastic wrapping from the dinner plate on the floor.
He was more annoyed that he’d ruined the progress of his dream though. He was finally getting somewhere, but he knew he’d have to let it happen. If he forced it he knew his mind would create details and then he’d never know what was real.
The clock shows 3.58pm and he sighs at the thoughts that he’d slept for half of the day. Whatever has infected him must have drained his energy more than he realised. Maybe a timeout was