Dream, Life, or Metaphor?

I awake.
I feel the heat of sun on my body as I lay on my back.
In grass, it feels, in a place unknown, yet familiar.
When I open my eyes, all I see is the gray blanket of clouds. They cover the entire sky or ceiling above me. Not moving, perfectly still, they filter through a, seemingly, bright and burning sun. I surmise that, if this grayness were to disappear, the world I awoke in would shine brighter than any Childhood Dream.

But the clouds do not disappear. They remain steadfast in their position.

I move my hands. The grass feels dry as if it's Late Autumn, dried out from many days under a hot blazing sun. But the moment has no temperature; it is neither noticeably warm nor noticeably cool. No breeze and no wind. It just is.

I rise.
All around me, for as far as my eyes can see, is this greenish-yellowed grass. Miles and years away, the gray clouds meet the greenish-yellowed grass in a perfect line. The horizon and the whole of land around me is perfectly flat. Computer-generated flat. Made by God flat.

There are no colors, but Gray and Green and rotting Yellow.

I walk forward. All points of the compass are unknown to me; if I could see the sun, I suppose it would be High Noon. No Shadow, no Angle from which to determine direction.

I walk forward. And as I walk, every song I have ever heard plays through my mind. Back-to-back the music goes through my head in a steady steady steady rhythmic march.

I walk forward, directionlessly and without any visual target or goal. I just walk forward. The clouds do not change, the music never stops, and the horizon does not get closer. The grass crunches softly quietly beneath my steady metronomic steps.

I lay down in the greenish-yellowed grass.
How long have I trudged along?
A day?
3 decades?
960 minutes?
A lifetime?

I sleep and dream memories of my past. Realistic moments and distorted re-tellings of events that may or may not have occurred. My Regrets point at me laughing; and, my Triumphs sit in the far corner of my mind forgotten, covered in dust, and sighing in cold pints of beer.

I awake, surrounded by greenish-yellowed grass for as far as my eyes can see.