He dreams a vast emptiness.
Sometimes it is a desert, lifeless sand for miles, other times it is bare stone or warm, soft dust. Once it was gently swaying grass as far as the eye could see; just the once.
He crosses on foot, for hours, until he reaches the doors.
Hundreds of doors.
Behind them, he is sure, so sure, are wonderful places where his family and friends wait for him. But whichever door he picks, as it opens he knows he has chosen the same door, again. And it is too late.
He steps through, he wakes, alone.