I have walked this path a hundred times, a thousand times. The snow begins to fall as it always does, and you look up at the towering trees and smile, as you always do. Your eyes are warm and kind, bright with joy. My feet that have been wandering forward slowly come to a halt. Wisps of snow drift through the air and all sounds are muted by the gray expanse of sky. I will my feet to continue onwards, to take one more step and then another towards you. They stay rooted to the ground, disobedient.

Ah, but you’ve seen something ahead! And you are gesturing at me to follow. I can’t, I try to say. Nothing comes out. I watch your back as it grows smaller and smaller, as your silhouette turns gray and then white.

And now all that is left is snow and silence. The dream concludes as it always has: In a haze of white, cold and solitary.