// The following is a work of fiction inspired by dreams. No research was done to ensure scientific accuracy. This story may contain pseudo science and even absolute nonsense. Any resemblance to real world events are likely coincidence.//

I've never really been the best at cohesively telling a story, I have a tendency to ramble and get side tracked. That said, I'll do my best to convey my experiences. For some context I'm a male in my twenties. My life, in most aspects, is what I'd describe as "painfully average". I work at a gas station with flexible hours and have a side hustle, or try to at least, where I try to live out my childhood dream. In my case it's to be a voice actor. Not that ambitious I know, but it's me. Anyway, lately I've been having issues that are... unique. I have questioned my sanity more than once at this point but here it is. I've been shifting from this world to there somehow, and I think my life, or maybe even the world, could be in danger.

It started on a day like any other, during my off hours. I was walking around town, running small errands and getting in some exercise. It was a nice and quiet day, and the street I was on was practically empty. I had stopped walking when I got this really strange feeling. Hard to describe it in words but it was like a sort of pull. My vision began to tunnel as what I was looking at suddenly looked far away as the things seemed to stretch out. I got the compulsion to hold my breath and then felt a sensation like I had been slingshot. I stumbled, almost fell over, and felt really embarrassed at almost falling over for no reason. That embarrassment didn't last long as I realized the floor I was looking at was no longer a concrete sidewalk. I was now looking down at some sort of reddish orange sand, mixed with shades of grey and black swerling through the orange and red. When I looked up I appeared to be in some sort of desert. Mostly barren with the odd ruins of buildings here and there. Dilapidated, abandoned, and covered in rust and dust. Somehow, without being told, I realized the sand I was standing in wasn't just granulated rock. It was the parts of the buildings that had eroded away. A mixture of stone, rust, metal, and dust. The layout of what was left of the buildings was similar to that of my town, almost like a reflection. I covered my mouth with a bandana I pulled from my pocket and pulled up the hood on my hooded shirt before walking closer to a building. I couldn't see any intact signs or posters, but something was off about the building that I couldn't place my finger on. Almost like a smudge on the mirror, the reflection felt like it wasn't exactly right. I remembered what my dad used to tell me as a kid, "if you ever find yourself lost, find the nearest cop." Of course that probably won't help me on this seemingly dead world.

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However, with no better plan, I started making the trip. Unfortunately for me I live closer to the edge of my town with the dispatch downtown being several hours away.

To say the trip was hell wouldn't even cover it. It was hot, dry, and any time a wind picked up I had to make sure it was at my back or risk getting tetanus. Downtown was more intact, the streets were mostly visible and the buildings mostly intact. I still couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The layout of the town was the same, the buildings even had a similar size and shape, but something was just off enough to bug me for some reason. By the time I got to where the dispatch building was, my mouth was so dry I'd have been willing to drink a soda can I found in the hot sand knowing it would taste like hot ass.

If there were letters on the outside of this building at some point, they were gone now, but it looks mostly the same as the building I was used to. What was once a small high school, converted to a police station. Three stories with multiple rooms and a messhall assuming the inside had a similar layout. I shambled my way into the building, nearly collapsing from exhaustion.

When I got to the door and opened it, I reached up to slap the frame. An old habit. That's when I realized what it was that was bugging me. This door frame was two feet taller than the one back home. A quick measure by sight showed the double door was wider as well by a foot per door. So instead of being eight by eight it was ten by ten. All the buildings were slightly bigger, leaving less area between them.

I stumbled through the rooms, checking them. Empty, not a single person in sight. Cabinets empty, drawers barren. There was one closet with some tattered clothes, one had something that looked similar to a police badge on it but the symbols were unrecognizable. I cleaned it off and stuffed it in my pocket before walking back out the door. I was just about to collapse outside the door when I felt the pull again. My vision tunneled once more before I felt the slingshot feeling again. I collapsed just outside the police station back home.