My thoughts can’t explain everything I am thinking. The problem with this reality is that thoughts don’t mean anything anymore because we can’t express them like we do in dreams. In this world of open eyes, actions are the only things still heard. People barely even listen to words anymore. Yet in dreams, thoughts don’t have to be translated into words or actions. They have a power all their own. If only I could speak to the Doctor in her dreams, I’m sure she would understand how I feel.

The Dreamer must have had an even more difficult time than I do. In the Dreamer’s world, everything had always changed with his thoughts, every moment had come alive and new. The Dreamer’s thoughts – not his actions – had dictated his life. But in reality, where he lived now, everything was about actions.

I wonder what the Dreamer would have done. Since his thoughts couldn’t do anything, probably he tried to use his hands to change the world. But even those actions would have been harsh and slow. When he did anything, he did not understand why that anything seemed to last forever. Water evaporated only when drowned in time. Fire consumed life nearly completely. Wounds healed slowly, if at all. How frightening it must have been to realize this. Some things last, some things are forever.

In reality, the Dreamer’s only comfort could have been in the things that never change. There was always something warm in his constant Echo. He probably stared at her, speaking only to hear her respond. The words were not important; he just longed for that voice. He would shout "love" and "dreams" and "together." And she would mimic "love" and "dreams" and "together." It made the time pass more softly. It made the world – if only for the moment – seem like a dream.

Echo must have been gorgeous. After all, the kindest people always seem the prettiest to sad eyes. And Echo’s expressions were so hopeful, like the Dreamer’s. She helped him by listening. Instead of dreams (now gone), instead of reality (which failed him), Echo became his entire world. Once a whole world – a world of dreams – had responded to his wishes and feelings. Now just Echo would.

So, to pass the time, to ease his head, the Dreamer must have told Echo everything, just as I try little by little to do with you. The Dreamer would have wanted to explain to her his true world, the world of dreams. The Dreamer wanted her to know that it had not always been like this. Reality had taken the world.

"This," he said, "this was once the world of dreams. This was once…"