I stand over this lifeless figure. It has been so long and so much has consumed my life these last few months, that I scarcely recognise the face. Oh, what secrets lay beneath those quiet eyes. I just hope one day, the chance will come when those secrets may be recalled and told.
It seems an eternity since I first came to this place. Now I know time has no meaning here, life has no meaning. This is why I must now leave and return to my old life. As I look around I vaguely remember this place. I saw it briefly in a dream once before. Funny I only remember it now. When I first awoke here, everything was very hazy. I couldn't remember much, nothing of the previous night, and could not now place where I was. God only knows how I had ended up outside in the middle of nowhere. It was an almost surreal experience waking up in a strange place, and not having the slightest idea how you got there, or indeed how you were going to get back.
Spread out before me was a vast city stretching in all directions. It was lit wondrously bright and as I closed in I could hear laughter and singing. I could see many thousands of people and everyone was beautiful. It was a vision of a perfect place, no one was unhappy. Everyone had wonderful clothes, and everything was clean and bright. But try as I could, I didn't settle. Then an image came to me of my daughter. She was telling me how much she loved and missed me. She wanted me to go back to her. Then I remembered the accident. Suddenly, I stood gazing upon my own body, lying there, peaceful and still. A body asleep, unconscious to the world. Yet this body was the real me. More tantalising still, it was in the real world. This was my doorway back to reality. Back to life.
I realised then all that had happened, it all made sense. Real as it felt I know now that this is not reality, although this place does exist. We each visit it. The place where dreams are real. Where our souls go whilst we are unconscious. The city of dreams. Strange though, as I look into those eyes, I am sure they were once full of colour and life, yet they now seem lifeless and dark.

Jane crossed the road outside her London flat, and headed towards the bus stop. She joined the small queue that had already accumulated and when the bus arrived she delved into her pocket for change and got on the bus. She sat alone and began to flick through the newspaper she had rolled and stashed in her bag. She made this journey at least four times a week. She dreaded doing it. She had always found hospitals deeply depressing places, but it was her father, and since the accident she wanted nothing more than to arrive there one day and find him sitting up and awake. For him to be the way she remembered him. He had been in a deep coma for just over two months now, and she swore she would never give up hope. Today however her flowers were for the small chapel of rest on the hospital grounds.
She often thought about where he had gone, and whether he would have found his way back, if they had only left his life support on for one more day.

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