Dreaming in Shades of Grey

I open my eyes and hear the words,
"Your stripes have been picked."

I fall back asleep an hour later.

He stands in front of the mirror.
I stand in front of his side - right profile.
He begins to speak.
The sounds of the words are too thick to make out, too slow.
Then, like waves rippling in water, I hear him say,
"There has been a disturbance in the field."
He looks over and right at me.
His eyes are glossy.
He smiles but it is deceiving. He is heavy.
To the left there is a bed covered in a white embroidered spread and to its right, a small window, with a sheer white curtain.
I can see the window reflected in the mirror and the bright light shining through.
The room is shades of grey.
The wooden floor, which used to be laminated, has been stripped over time from the wear and tear of life.
He speaks again.
I smile pretending to have heard him.
But I catch a glimpse of my machine and am appalled and so I speak the truth and say, "I can't hear you."
He speaks again.
I struggle to hear. I move forward, adjust the position of my head but still I cannot hear him.
Then the screen of this dream, focuses in and out, like pixels in a photo, expanding and contracting.
I hear him say, "Did you know that I have to work twice as hard to reach that place....?"
I feel a dampness and a heaviness in my chest.
There is a deep sorrow here in this space, this place.
It is his sorrow reflected in the room. It runs deep. I am sure of it.
He speaks again.
I place my right hand on the black dresser we are both standing in front of.
I can feel the texture of the wood under my fingers.
I don't know what to do.
I sense hesitation in my left arm.
I want to place it on his right arm to console, to consider, to empathize?
But he jerks, almost in anger.
He speaks some more.
He is wearing a black hat and suit, with a white shirt.
I can see clearly the clothing, the intricate detail of the material.
I can sense the texture of it even though I do not touch it.
I am aware of my skin, of my own presence here, knowing full well my body is asleep in bed.
He has something in his hands, like he's applying something to his face...powder?
Then I feel the rippling effect of the screen again.
I look to my right and see his reflection in the mirror and focus my eyes back to him.
But now there are three of us.
There is an older woman standing between us.
I get scared. I am aware that she is not of the living and belongs to another plane. I sense that I know her or maybe he knows her? I cannot see her face.
I feel my head go numb.
This should have been enough to wake me up but no.
I fall to the floor and like a ball, roll, as if down a hill.
Everything is moving fast.
I place my hands over my ears.
I am aware of a slant in the floor, a slight indentation against my stomach and hips.
I look up. He is still standing in front of the mirror, his mouth still moving, his back to me.
And the lady is looking at herself in the mirror, her face drawn closer to it so she can see better.
She is wearing a white dress or a gown, tied at the waist, barefoot, hair in a bun.
He does not turn to see me on the floor.
He does not turn to the woman who is standing next to him, either.