The narrative of a dream produces a swift tide of emotion which carries him through an aperture out of its world and into wakefulness, into the anonymous hours before dawn. The dream world dissolves away but the emotions remain and seize upon whatever mental fuel they can find to stay alive. It is the other now who takes him apart, who forces his reaction and surrender. The other who always outplays him by anticipating him and by gaining the point of control before he even realises its possibility. He looks down at the broken remnants of his strategies and is invaded by the strange sweetness of defeat, in which in spite of himself, he is constrained to acknowledge an unavowed and liberating truth.