As the clock strikes 10 PM, I slip into the realm of dreams, only to be jolted awake at 6 AM sharp. But in those 8 hours, time bends and reality warps. Last night, the veil between worlds thinned, and I found myself on a motorcycle journey that defied the laws of nature. The lines between waking and sleeping blurred, as they often do in my nightly ventures into the surreal…

I found myself standing in our driveway, surrounded by our three motorcycles. It was one of those dreams where everything feels slightly off, yet completely normal at the same time.

My partner pointed to the smallest bike – my bike. “Let’s take this one,” he said.

In my waking life, I would have objected immediately. It was my bike, after all. But in this dream state, I only hesitated. “Both of us? On that?”

He nodded, already swinging his leg over the seat of my motorcycle. I felt a strange disconnect, seeing him on my bike, but dream logic prevailed.

As I climbed on behind him, a sense of unease washed over me. “Are you sure?” I heard myself ask, the words echoing as if in a tunnel.

“Absolutely,” he replied, his voice unnaturally confident.

The scene shifted, as dreams often do. We were already poised to leave, but I couldn’t shake my anxiety. “Are you really sure about this?” I asked again, the question feeling vital yet futile.

His only response was a laugh that seemed to ripple through the air. He revved the engine of my bike, and suddenly we were moving. The motorcycle skidded down the driveway with dream-like fluidity, lurching onto our neighbor’s lawn.

In that surreal dream way, the ground beneath us simply gave way. A massive hole appeared, defying all logic and physics. I watched, detached, as he navigated my bike around it.

“We need to mark that off,” I said, yellow caution tape materializing in my mind’s eye.

Before I could fully process what was happening, we were on the street. My small bike struggled beneath our combined weight, the sensation amplified by dream perception.

Then came the most vivid part of the dream. The road itself began to peel away, like a giant had grabbed a corner and was slowly pulling it back. Beneath the asphalt was not dirt or concrete, but an entire world – a vast junkyard stretching endlessly, filled with twisted metal and forgotten objects.

As we teetered on the edge of this impossible chasm, I clung to him, feeling oddly out of place on my own motorcycle. In that moment, I knew I was dreaming, yet couldn’t wake up. Our simple trip had become a journey into the literal underbelly of our town, all because of my small motorcycle and the strange, unquestioning acceptance that only exists in dreams.

I woke up then, the image of that underground junkyard still vivid in my mind, wondering what it all could mean and why, in my dream, I had let someone else take control of my bike.