[ WP ] A man has a vivid dream one night . He wakes from his dream and all he wants to do is get back to that dream . He spends his life figuring out how to live his dream .

`` Why are you doing this to me Stephen. You've spoken of time being precious, and yet you continue to raise this subject''. 
 
 `` Doc, time is precious. and I'm wasting it here, when I know I should be there.'' 
 
 The leather sofa squeaked as the man squirmed in discomfort. No one understood, and he should come to terms with it, he thought morbidly. 
 
 `` Well the issue with that, Stephen, is that the world you wish to reside within is a construct of your own unconscious mind.'' 
 `` And whats wrong with that, exactly?'' 
 
 The doctor hunched over his desk, pulling his glasses slowly from his face and wiping them slowly with a cloth he kept near his mouse; an old trick from his college days, pretending to be only one wipe away from seeing clearly, while really his mind raced, searching for the educated response. 
 
 `` But it felt real doc. It felt free. Like, true freedom, you know?'' 
 The leather squeaked again as the man sat up. The man stared at the doctor inquisitively, searching for a sign of comprehension. 
 `` But you understand, you must understand, that from all dreams, we must awaken. They are by there very nature, fleeting.'' 
 
 `` I understand. They've said the same of life. But it's not. It's long, much longer then anyone cares to say. Which is why I refuse to live mine as a slave, wracked with the fear of death.'' 
 
 `` Just because the odds are n't exactly in you're favor, does n't mean you have to give up.'' 
 
 The man ran his hands through his hair. He was losing more and more of it every passing day. 
 
 `` That's cute. The odd's are n't good eh? 94 percent? Better chance being the fish that warns the others in the next barrel.'' 
 
 The doctor flipped to a fresh page. The notes, however useless, calmed him. He could n't avoid it. The possibility existed, and knew the man would n't let up until it was discussed. 
 
 `` You would be the first, Stephen. The absolute first human subject with which this machine will be tested. We have only theories what its effect will be. We have delayed trials because we fear the transfer will cause death, before the subjects mind can be downloaded.'' 
 
 His look was one of excitement, fear far from his focus. A chance. A way out. 
 
 `` Even better. If I croak I'll get a sentence in the history books. You've offered me more than I could ever ask for, doc.'' 
 
 His words fenced the doctor in, as though the papers were already signed. They sat inches away, and though he showed no signs of stress, his mind was a storm of turmoil. The odds of his disease and the prototype sitting two rooms away killing him were practically the same. But the man's face shown with naught a drop of retreat. He would never relent. 
 
 The heart monitor quickened as the man smiled. His eyelids flickered, his arm's twitched with movement. He looked as though he was reaching for someone. His last word was soft, and no one was close enough to hear. 
 `` Sarah...'' 
 
 Her hair blew in the wind. The waves crashed, coating the beach in their sound. She laughed, healthy and happy, and Stephen held her. They sat together watching the sunset, as Stephen grew tired. He smiled the goofy, toothy grin of a lovestruck boy, closing his eyes for a quick nap in the sun. 
 

