The following is by Rob White:

(3:05)

Last night I dreamt of a man who became the wreck of another man. But not really. One of those extraordinary moments needs to occur. Yes. He still sleeps. Part of his bed is still warm. I don’t know his dreams. The night for him has probably barely been a night. The rain has stopped. Both these men would end up standing before the afterworld (I think this was suppose to be part of the dream) thinking of a world to ensure their passage. I like the word afterworld. Immediately I’m pulled down upon hearing the word. Afterworld. So much says that it comes from underground. Journeys have been made to this place. I nearly wake with his own dreams, I think, at times, carrying some disturbance from another world. The anotherworld. I am distressed and it is his doing. Look at him sleep. It is dark over there and I can’t see his body. Rain. It rained most of the night. The earth is too dry to hold this rain. Do I escape? Run for the finish of my dream. We had to say the right word so we wouldn’t get stuck outside the afterworld. I’m so afraid. Not really. He must have put it on my lips. Oops. There. That was for him. And there he goes, walking away.