Silence was hollow, and maddening, filling the air with nothing. Like thunder without sound, prickling like needles in a phantom limb.
To be woken by silence was a shock, the mind knowing immediately that something was wrong. It was an odd feeling, considering it was a dream.
It was the same every time. The same four walls, the same window and powdery white chalkboard.
Cracked and broken tiles line a dusty floor and a single desk sitting empty in the middle of the room. The same plants slowly taking over the space, creeping in through the single large window.
The dream was always contained within the room, a door was present but she never tried to leave. What was there to see? It was just a dream.
Sometimes she could still hear the sounds of life. A chair scraping along the floor, the odd buzzing sound coming from the fluorescent light.
Voices in the hall, laughing and talking as shoes shuffled down the long halls. A loud ringing as the bell called students to class or the distant rumble of an engine starting outside.
The illusion only lasted moments at a time as the silence would return with its lack of life.
Out the dirty window, the view clouded and obscured by the layers of grime on the glass.
A city street that was slowly crumbling, rusted out cars and different plant life slowly climbing everything. Not a soul walked the world on the other side of the glass.
In an almost morbid way the world looked like it should be empty. To see someone walking out there, or within this space would seem wrong, like an intrusion.
It was strange that she never felt lonely, only forgotten like this room.
But it was just a dream, wasn’t it?
(word count 300)