Dreams and realities

Stan Irutian had woken up. He couldn't remember how he got there, but he was back with his harvester bots, in the cold, dark night of Shithole-9.

"What the hell are you smiling for?" another inmate yelled as he passed.

Stan realized that he'd been thinking about the strange, fun dream from the previous night.

"Damn, it felt so real", he thought, but alas, now he was back to his good old self. Undernourished and skinny, instead of the stud version from the dream.

Noticing that one of his robots was acting weird, he started making his way over. His steps were gentle and controlled in the low, lunar gravity. The fine sand, a biproduct of the harvesters, flew up as he walked. More than normal, he realized. Soon he found himself trapped within a cloud of dust. He was falling. Gravity was gone, and he felt sick, twisting and turning inside the dust cloud.

"Help!" he cried on the radio, but there was nothing but static.

Suddenly the cloud cleared and he was hurtling through the darkness of space. As if he was completely alone in intergalactic space, there were no stars and nothing to relate to around him. He just felt the movement in his guts. He tried to turn and see behind him, but there was nothing anywhere to be seen.

"Somebody help!" he called. There was no reply.

He floated for a while, gradually becoming aware of a white surface in front of him. It got closer and closer. There was a yellow or brown speck on it, and second by second it got larger. He was accelerating! He panicked. He was going to crash.