Red Sky, Fading

Scott sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for breath. His heart thundered in his chest as the last wisps of the dream evaporated from his mind like smoke in the wind. It had been so real. The streets, the people, the terror — it all felt like more than just a dream.

He closed his eyes, trying to recall details. A city of towering glass and steel, strangely familiar yet utterly alien. A sense of purpose, of urgency, but he couldn’t recall why. And the sky — it had been red, an angry, seething red.

“Just a dream,” he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair. The clock on his nightstand blinked- 3:47 AM.

Shaking his head, he swung his legs out of bed and padded to the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face and met his own reflection with bloodshot eyes.

Something felt off. He didn’t feel like himself. It was a nagging sensation, like standing in a room where something was subtly misplaced but impossible to pinpoint.

Shrugging it off, Scott climbed back into bed and forced himself to relax. He had work in the morning. He had responsibilities. The dream meant nothing.

At exactly 6:30 AM, his alarm blared, pulling him from another dream. This one had been even stranger. He had been back in the city, only this time he had recognized faces. People he had never met in real life but somehow knew. Their names, their lives, their fears. And always, the oppressive red sky.

Scott dressed, grabbed a coffee, and left his apartment, shaking the lingering unease. The subway ride was packed as usual. Commuters scrolled through their phones, eyes glazed over. Yet, as he squeezed into a seat, something felt... wrong.

Across from him sat a man in a sharply pressed suit, staring straight at him. His expression was blank, unsettlingly neutral.

Scott frowned. “Do I know you?”

The man’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Instead, his mouth seemed to move too slowly, like a video buffering. Then he blinked, his expression resetting to something entirely blank, as though he had just woken up. He got up and walked away without a word.

Scott's stomach twisted. He turned to the window, watching his own reflection. The subway car behind him shimmered, warping for a split second before snapping back into place.

No one else reacted.

He closed his eyes. I need more sleep.

At work, the feeling worsened. Scott couldn’t concentrate. His fingers moved automatically over the keyboard, but his mind was somewhere else. He kept catching glimpses of that red sky in his peripheral vision, only for it to vanish when he turned his head.

At lunch, he stepped outside for fresh air. The moment the sunlight touched his skin, the world glitched.

For a breathless moment, he wasn’t standing in the city he knew. The streets were different — sleek, futuristic, and filled with the same faces from his dreams. The sky above was a deep, crimson hue. And then, just as suddenly, everything snapped back to normal.

Scott staggered, gripping a lamppost for support. A woman passed by, glancing at him with a look of concern.

“Are you okay?”

He opened his mouth to answer but hesitated.

“I... I think I’m dreaming,” he murmured, mostly to himself.

The woman blinked. “Ah,” she said with a knowing nod. “It’s happening, then.”

Scott froze. “What?”

She glanced around before stepping closer. “You’re waking up.”

His skin prickled. “What do you mean?”

Her lips curled into a sympathetic smile. “You really don’t remember, do you?”

Scott took a step back. “Remember what?”

She exhaled. “This world — it’s not real. You’re dreaming. You’ve been dreaming.”

He laughed nervously. “Right. And I suppose the next thing you’ll tell me is that none of this matters.”

“Quite the opposite,” she said. “It matters a lot. Because once you wake up, you won’t be able to come back.”

Scott's throat went dry. The dream city, the people, the red sky — it wasn’t just a dream. It was another reality. And somehow, he had been slipping between them.

“But this world — it feels real.” His voice was hoarse.

She nodded. “That’s the trick, isn’t it?”

The ground beneath him wavered. The city flickered like static on a broken screen. He clutched his head as dizziness overtook him.

And then, everything collapsed.

Scott opened his eyes to an entirely different world.

Cold metal pressed against his back, the scent of sterile air filling his lungs. A vast domed ceiling loomed above him, traced with glowing lines of energy that pulsed like a slow heartbeat.

He wasn’t in his apartment. He wasn’t in his city.

He wasn’t in his life.

A woman stood over him — the same woman from the street. But now, she wasn’t a stranger in passing. She wore a sleek, form-fitting uniform, her eyes glowing with a faint golden light.

“Welcome back,” she said, offering her hand.

Scott sat up, but the motion sent a wave of nausea through him. His breath hitched. A memory crashed into him, then another, then a flood. His name. His real name. His mission. The simulation.

His mind reeled.

I got lost. I forgot.

The realization settled into his bones like ice. The office job. The morning coffee. The subway rides. The exhaustion of a workday. The dreams, the laughter, the small aches of loneliness. Every fleeting moment of connection, of purpose—

Had any of it been real?

Had he ever truly lived? Or had he been nothing more than a ghost trapped inside a carefully constructed lie?

His hands clenched against the table, fingers trembling. He had memories — real memories — of late-night walks in the rain, of conversations with coworkers, of the way coffee tasted slightly burnt but comforting. He had memories of watching the city lights blur past on the subway, of longing for something more without knowing what. He had felt things.

But if none of it had been real, did it matter?

Did he matter?

His stomach twisted. His head swam.

He wanted to reject it, to deny it, to claw his way back to the world that had felt so solid. But deep down, he knew the truth.

The life he had lived was nothing more than a construct. A dream.

A prison.

“I was… trapped?” His voice was unsteady, small.

The woman nodded. “For a while. But we got to you in time.”

Scott swallowed hard. If they hadn’t — if he had fully forgotten — would he have lived out the rest of his days in that false existence, never questioning, never knowing?

Would he have died in that world believing it was all there ever was?

His pulse pounded in his ears. He felt unmoored, like he had slipped between realities and landed somewhere just out of reach of himself.

For a moment, he closed his eyes. He pictured his apartment, the way the light streamed through the curtains on quiet mornings. He thought of the rhythmic lull of the subway, the simple comfort of routine.

He thought of people whose names he could no longer be sure were real. Had he loved? Had he been loved? Or were those emotions just another layer of the illusion?

The weight of it nearly crushed him.

Then he inhaled, steadying himself. The past might have been an illusion, but this moment — his pulse, his breath, the cold metal beneath his hands — was real.

He had to hold onto that.

Scott swung his legs over the side of the table, taking a slow, measured breath. The red sky, the urgency, the truth — it all made sense now.

He had almost chosen to stay asleep.

And he wouldn’t make that mistake again.

He turned to the woman, voice rough but certain. “Did we get the person we were looking for?”

Her expression darkened. “Not yet. But now that you’re back, we might still have a chance.”

Scott exhaled. The dream was over.

Now, it was time to wake up for real.

The room trembled as alarms blared through the chamber. The woman cursed under her breath and pulled Scott to his feet.

“They know you’re back,” she said. “We need to move — now.”

Scott's heart pounded. He still wasn’t fully recovered, but he forced himself to focus. He followed her down a dimly lit corridor, the walls lined with strange, pulsating circuitry.

“What’s happening?” he asked as they ran.

She glanced at him. “The ones who built the simulation — they don’t want you to leave.”

A door burst open ahead, and figures in black, faceless armor stepped through, weapons raised.

“Looks like they’re making sure you don’t.”

Scott clenched his fists. He wasn’t going back to sleep.

Not without a fight.