Between the beams of last light and sunrise,
collective souls enter the twilight of dreams.

A great many dwell here,
but far greater are the dreamless.
Those lonely, shut out hearts,
whose minds dare not open.

But for the good ones,
struck hard by empathy's song
they dream.

They float on a sea of faces,
masks of every spectrum of emotion.
Here, dreams become reality,
as real as anyone believes them to be.

On some level, they must know this.
They must acknowledge this consciousness.
They wake, knowing and doubting.
For how terrifying is that truth.

And in all that fear,
dreamers know they must dream.
They must exist between the beams,
for all the dreamless dreams.