Piece of Fiction(Part 4)

But he didn't know.
He fell through a void of the unknown.
Further from all light, all information, all certainty.

No reference, no input from the senses.
Just a point of terrified awareness.
Flying faster than light, or totally motionless.
Impossible to know.

He reached out with his will.
Remembering his physical self.
He hit his head.

***

He'd fallen out of bed.
Head-first, into the floor.
His head rang with the fresh impact.
He raised his hand to his head; no blood, good.

He looked around, still dazed.
He was at home.
It was almost dawn. He could tell by the brightening sky visible through the windows.

He put on his loafing around the house clothes and headed to the kitchen to make some coffee.
He grabbed his cigarettes and lit one before he filled the kettle from the tap. He plugged it in, and waited for it to boil, leaning against the counter. He inhaled smoke. He had been having a strange dream, he could remember. He seemed to recall some sort of secret, and needing to run from an unknown pursuer. The government perhaps? A spy dream? He remembered feeling as though he had been caught. Was this dream a warning about something? Had he been doing something dangerous?

The cigarette burned his fingers, derailing his thought train. He heard the kettle whistling loudly. He had missed it evidently. He unplugged it, then turned to retrieve his dropped cigarette butt, and wiped the ashes on the floor away with his socks. He discarded the butt in an ashtray, and made himself an instant coffee, and headed into the living room to turn on the television. He found there was a program he had been looking forward to watching, but had been previously unable to watch due to a series of coincidences that prevented him from being able to watch it each time it had aired. He settled in for a rewarding experience, the dream drifting further and further from his thoughts.