Brofnakken jolted from slumber as the subway rattled across a particularly worn-down section of track, screeching into the night like a mechanical dragon. He looked around the poorly-lit car, vision unfocused but slowly clearing.
Had he just been asleep? It had felt so real! It always felt real, though, every time. He looked down at his hand, sure he would see burns there from the intense contact, but nothing was apparently wrong.
Across the aisle, the only other passanger on the train, an old man wearing a brown suit, watched him warily.
"Excuse me sir," said Brofnakken, "Have I been here long?"
The old man blinked, eyes widening a bit. "What do you mean, son?"
"Well, I mean, did I just appear out of thin air or anything unusual like that?"
"Can't say as I'd noticed," the old fellow replied, his gnarled fingers flexing slightly against a walking stick. "Been there the whole time I was watching you, anyway."
Brofnakken nodded and turned to look out the window as the streets of the city sped past. He still felt unsettled. The metal seat he was occupying didn't feel warm enough to have been his sleeping place, and he could not remember getting onto the train. Then again, he didn't remember many things for very long. He tried to remember if he'd been to see a doctor at any point, but everything was too hazy.
"I must be going crazy," he muttered aloud.
Across the aisle, the old man chuckled as he overheard the comment, and said, "I've been crazy for a long time, Broffy. Nobody ever said it would be easy."
Brofnakken's eyes widened. "How did you know my name?" He asked, turning to look across the shuddering car.
The old man was nowhere to be seen.
Gone.