Creative Writing: A Hero's Journey

As Fin walked along the street the leaves of the oak trees shone like patches of blue velvet, but when he stopped still nothing shimmered. The waves refused to move. The glow of the city still seeped into the morning sky, forever. He felt he must be dreaming, and yet he was sure he wasn't dreaming because everything felt so real. Surely his brain was not powerful enough to create such a masterful illusion. Or was it? He felt his head imploding just trying to figure it