The scene takes place during daytime, at the frame of a door giving to a veranda in a wooden house. This must be a public place for there were a number of strangers around us. Two friends and I. Talking about past and recent achievements, one of them highlights that I seem to push my boundaries and spend an inordinate amount of energy and time accomplishing tasks and helping my friends and colleagues.

The question comes: how can I sustain this rhythm? What motivates me? In the midst of the conversation my answer comes naturally: well, I might as well die tomorrow, so I live as if I’m running out of time every day! Then I ignore the semi-confused look; I recognize the blissfully ignorant gaze of someone who has not yet consider their own mortality.

As the conversation resumes on other topics, yet a silence befalls my mind. I tune out of the ambient noise and feel a darkness around me. Was that the honest answer? I know the truth: I will die soon, and I keep myself busy to avoid thinking about it.

The thing about dreams is that there the subconscious self does not let itself be overridden easily. As the painful understanding cristallises, my conscious self is forced to acknowledge it, and for perhaps a couple of seconds only is forced to consider the life I’m leaving behind, missed opportunities, and the relationships with friends and family that will die with me.

I fall on my knees, bursting in tears. My friends do not understand; yet one sits to my side, catches me in his arms and tries to soothe me.

I woke up then, just starting to feel his warmth in my back.