[ WP ] A stranger holds eye contact with you for far too long . When you finally look away , you realize where you 'd seen that face before ... In a dream , just last night .

It ’ s impossible for your brain to create faces in a dream. I learned that in psychology when I was in high school. Something about dreams being stitched together from random neural impulses. Yet, I ’ m sure that it was last night, and only while dreaming that I saw this man. He ’ s smiling, approaching me from down the sidewalk. He has one dimple: on just the left side of his mouth. It ’ s unmistakable. The line in front of me dwindles as person after person files onto the bus, but I ’ m so entranced that I hardly notice. When I am the only one left, I think I driver says something to me. I don ’ t hear him. He waits for a second, and out of the corner of my eye I see the door close and the bus pull away. 
 
 This man is important. He has to be: it ’ s not every day that your dreampeople appear on the street to meet you. But should I be happy, or scared? Do I greet him, or run? I dig through the fog of swamped memories and buried fantasies to remember his role, or the role of the man who shared his face. Was he a killer? A centaur? A villain? A partner? I ’ ve always been better than most at recalling my dreams, but it ’ s never an easy feat. 
 
 “ Hi, friend. I knew you would make it. ” 
 
 Oh, I remember. He taught me how to ride stars. We dipped cookies into the milky way. 
 
 He is now standing in front of me. He holds out his arms for what seems like an embrace. I step back. “ But-but... dream, ” I stutter. 
 
 He laughs. It ’ s a nice, deep laugh. “ Oh, you know that dreams are important! They might be a little boring sometimes, but you can find a lot of great stuff. I once found a girlfriend in- ” 
 
 We both notice at the same time that I ’ m trembling. “ How is this p- possible? ” I ask. “ I met you in a dream. While I was asleep? ” 
 
 He seems puzzled. “ ‘ Met? ’ We ’ re meeting now in your- ” He suddenly breaks into another laugh. It really is a nice laugh. A familiar one, almost. “ Oh, I see. I ’ ve known you all these years, and you ’ ve never told me you had Reversal. ” 
 
 “ Reversal? ” I think I notice that the world is starting to tremble and fade. Why was I waiting for the bus? For work, of course. But what ’ s my job? I think for a second. Of course, I work in the office of a box assembly factory. I have a condition where I feel... separated from the world sometimes. 
 
 “ Did you really think that life could be this meaningless, and dreams so wonderful? You ’ ve got it backwards. ” He holds out his hand. “ Come on, buddy. It ’ s time to wake up. ” 
 
 I look at his hand for a moment. I look up at his face. He ’ s smiling so cleanly, so happily and brightly. I look over at the street, filled with cars belching smoke into the air. I grab his hand.
