I'm sitting at a cubicle in the middle of millions of other small cubicles in an absurdly huge warehouse-like room, typing away at the keyboard. For some reason me and everyone else working in their cubicles have a dog bowl full of water on the desk next to us and are wearing a big silver collar connected to a chain tying our necks to the desk. I barely recognized myself; my face was sunken and old and my hair had turned a diseased shade of white. Pain shoots through my hands every time my fingers bang at the keyboard because of what seemed like a bizarre case of arthritis and carpel tunnel syndrome. My eyes have gone almost completely blind and I am now wearing glasses so thick I have to keep pushing them up every few key strokes because they keep slipping off my thinning face. That's when the 'manager' walks in, a ghoulish being wearing a big fur coat like a pimp, and barks at me that he needs the report tomorrow morning or else I'm fired, walks away and the lights start turning out one by one in the huge warehouse...except for my cubicle. And it's in this scene of me sitting alone at a cubicle, aged and worn out, in the middle of complete blackness that kept waking me up gasping....