All day, as I sat on my mule, drifting in and out of sleep, I dreamt. Though the dreams were broken up by moments awake, I knew it was only one dream, the same dream. I saw Bob, sat on grey soil beneath a leafless bush. He pointed into the distance, and I turned in time to see someone disappear over the horizon. I knew I had to follow them. I walked through the featureless landscape. Sometimes, I saw the person I was following. Always, I found Bob. And whenever I did, he pointed, and I saw, and I walked.
The never-ending dream was more tiring than being awake. I began to lose track of where I was. Whenever I was awake, I was aware of Melanie following me. I could hear her steps. At dusk, I almost fell from the saddle, and I realised that I couldn't carry on. I stopped, and set up camp. I'll sleep now.
Maybe tomorrow will be better.