"I have a dream nightly, doctor, and I cannot seem to grasp it. It haunts me doctor, and I cannot seem to shake its recurrent, omnipresent hold. It haunts me doctor."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"Why yes, but it may be too strange to speak of; you may laugh."

"Try me my boy. It may help."

"Very well. I am living and breathing just as I am right now, only the world feels so cold. It leeches into my skin and claws at my thoughts, turning them bitter and icy, as I stand on the entrance to a great bridge of sparkling stone and gilded balustrades. There are others there too, but they are strangers looking off over there own bridges."

"Their own bridges you say."

"Yes, there are endless bridges all leading over a placid, frigid sea, which appears more endless than the bridges. I look at mine but I do not know if I want to travel on it. I cannot decide what the "best" bridge is because they are all the same. Nevertheless, as the silence begins to disquiet me, I walk forward. The platform of bridges vanish, and my bridge continues in one endless vertical line, behind me and in from of me. I have chosen, and I cannot retreat.

"Very interesting. Continue."

As I walk forward, I eventually see an end to the bridge, on both sides."

"One before and behind you?"

"Exactly. But they are different. Behind me I see warmth—a fire—and friends. I see my family awaiting my arrival with smiles, and a young lady beckons me with comforting, open arms—love in two forms. I see wealth and happiness, success and hope."

"You see all this?"

"Yes, but only in the rear. Before me, I see isolation and darkness: a bridge ending in the obscure haze of a deserted platform. So I turn around and start running. I run faster and faster towards the warmth and love, never looking back. I get sleepy, but I do not rest because I know that home will wash away fatigue; I know I cannot wait. I run, yet I do not reach my destination. It simply grows farther and farther away, but then I turn around and I see true horror.

"And what is that?"

"The other end, the bad one, is now only a few steps away. It's as if I had ran backwards the whole time, as if I was destined to reach sorrow and loneliness, while others feel safe on their end of the bridge. At first I wish to run and take a few steps, but it is all futile. I can either stay alone on the bridge or go alone into the darkness."

"And you choose to..."

"Go in the darkness. I walk towards the bad end and reach the end instantly, stepping off onto a huge square platform of wood which seems larger than the sea, shadowed all around. Behind me is nothingness—no bridge, no light, no anything—, so I go forward forever, but I am not alone. I see others wondering but they cannot see me, and they can only walk forward like me. Soon they are lost behind the growing darkness, which claims more and more of my vision until it chokes me to the sight of my spinning fan—awake."

"I'm afraid I cannot help you."

"But why? I've told you my whole dream."

"Well, that's exactly it. That is no dream. That is reality."