The faces don't match the voices.
The voices don't sound right,
and a sunny day such as this one
doesn't just suddenly turn to night.

I think I might be dreaming, I whisper to myself,
who then nods in agreement
and points to the way out.

The scents don't match the scenery.
The scenes aren't adding up,
and politely asking the gasping walls doesn't make them stop.

"I'm trying to find my way out of here," I say to my own face,
who echoes back the question
after a short delay.

I point to the space behind him,
then he points at my head.
I think I might be dreaming,
or else I might be dead.

I see myself as I was before
walking in through the Exit door;
confused and lost and in need of help.
I calmly point him to the way out.

It doesn't make any sense though,
and it's the farthest thing from fair.
*Walls don't even have lungs,
so how can they breathe air?