You wake up in a room
It's not your room
Nor is it any room
You've seen before
Not in reality, not in your dreams
Not in your nightmares

You look around
Dazed as can be
Trying to rub the sleep
From your eyes
And you notice the paint on the wall
Is chipping
Then the smell hits you
It's not all that offensive
It's that stale, moldy odor
That you encounter when you enter
Your grandparents' attic
Like the room doesn't see many visitors

You hoist yourself to your feet
And you notice there is no door
No windows
The only light
Comes from a flickering light bulb
Dangling from the ceiling
With each swing the light flickers
And in one instant when it is illuminated
You notice something on the wall that your back was facing
When you woke up
You move a little bit closer
Slowly stepping, creaking on the wooden floorboards below you
And realize that it's writing

"What do you plan to do with the life you've been given?"

You take a step back
Confused and disoriented
And start to scream
Cry for help
But all the noise you make seems to bounce off the four walls
And come crashing, louder than you could imagine
Back into your own eardrums