But Stanley just couldn’t do it.

He considered the possibility of facing his boss,

admitting he had left his post during work hours,

he might be fired for that.

And in such a competitive economy,

why had he taken that risk?

All because he believed everyone had vanished?

His boss would think he was crazy!

And then something occurred to Stanley:

Maybe,

he thought to himself,

maybe I am crazy.

All of my coworkers blinking mysteriously out of existence in a single moment for no reason at all?

None of it made any logical sense.

And as Stanley pondered this he began to make other strange observations.

For example,

why couldn’t he see his feet when he looked down?

Why did doors close automatically behind him wherever he went?

And for that matter,

these rooms were starting to look pretty familiar,

were they simply repeating?

No,

Stanley said to himself,

this is all too strange,

this can’t be real,

and at last he came to the conclusion that had been on the tip of his tongue,

he just hadn’t found the words for it.

"I’m dreaming!" he yelled,

This is all a dream

What a relief Stanley felt to have finally found an answer,

an explanation.

His coworkers weren’t actually gone,

he wasn’t going to lose his job,

he wasn’t crazy after all!

And he thought to himself,

I suppose I’ll wake up soon,

I’ll have to go back to my boring real life job pushing buttons,

I may as well enjoy this while I’m still lucid.

And then perhaps the strangest question of them all entered Stanley’s head,

one he was amazed he hadn’t asked himself sooner:

"Why is there a voice in my head dictating everything that I’m doing and thinking?"

He would prove it.

He would prove that he was in control,

that this was a dream.

So he closed his eyes gently,

and he invited himself to wake up.

He felt the cool weight of the blanket on his skin,

the press of the mattress on his back

the fresh air of a world outside this one.

Let me wake up,

he thought to himself.