I am in a padded white room; all is still, all is silent. I am very old; I have a long white beard down to my chest. I am dressed in all white robes. There is nothing in the room except for a window with a dense fog rolling from it. Curious, I approach the window. I am horrified when I come to see death on the other side. There is lightning flashing all around and I scream, but not a sound can be heard from my voice or the crashing lightning. I am frightened, but I can not look away. I stand there staring at death, him staring at me. Then a peculiar though enters my mind. I must remove his hood and see his face. I reach through the window and grab hold of his garments; he does not put up a struggle. I throw down his hood only to realize I am not looking into a window, but a mirror. It is my face under the hood, a much younger image of me but my face and my eyes staring back at me, then I wake...