For as long as I can remember, there have never been any people in my dreams. No animals, no voices other than mine echoing around in vast empty rooms, no distant figures running towards or away from me - there's only ever me. Just me.
My dreams were always empty... until they weren't.
I was back in one of the labyrinthine offices I sometimes dream about, all those millions of tiny cubicles with one identical plant in the corner, a dusty CRT monitor and a cup of lukewarm coffee that's always a little too close to the edge of the table.
Usually I wander around, drinking the coffee and trying to guess the passwords to the computers until I wake up. I was well into my routine when someone's voice rang out a sharp and worried sounding "Hello, who's there? Where are you?"
I didn't want to answer but he found me before I could hide.
He looked exhausted, scruffy and relieved. Said he hadn't seen another person for years and he'd given up hope until he saw the empty cups of coffee and dust-free screens. I never thought I was leaving a trail but he'd still managed to follow me.
Before I woke up I tried to ask his name, what came out instead was a garbled string of noise. He nodded and said that they don't let you get personal in this kind of space. We promised we'd try to find a way out together, or to at least find each other again but I haven't had that dream since.
It does make me wonder who else shares these empty dreams, if they're dreams at all.
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