I was flying a plane with no instruments

I was in the cockpit, but the dials were gone—just blank glass. The sky was that strange, flat blue you only see before a storm. I knew we were off course, but not how far. Then I heard my own voice from the radio: 'You’re supposed to be at 3000 feet.' I looked down and saw the city below—familiar, but wrong. The rooftops weren’t buildings. They were teeth. And then I woke up, heart pounding, still trying to read the horizon.