And now, Dream Walk:
He walks, barefoot and full of vigor. The dry grass below his feet irritates but does not pain. In the background, a building is ablaze. Ashes rise, darkening the sky. The woman is now in sight, also steadfast in her approach, stoic and eager.
Their hands clasp and their bodies press together. Wispy strands of her chestnut hair brush gently against the man's face. "It's finally tomorrow," he says.
"It's too late. Tomorrow I will be with him," she replies.
"What about now?"
"Now is tomorrow with little change."
Our hands release, the ash falls and, turns out, dreams never meld.