A man who dreamed was alone. He dreamed about a better life, about money and success. He dreamed about just to be free from circumstances. He wanted to do what he wants, when he wants and the most importantly he wanted to enjoy every moment and every thing what he did.
That's why he was alone, not just alone as a man but he also was empty as a glass without water, a dry glass what isn't seeing a drop of water very long time.
The man was thinking, was looking for opportunities to find the water, regularly and intensively. But maybe he's blind or surrounded by desert but though he tried hard, he can't find even a puddle. Sometimes he felt a drop on his skin. Just a drop. Like when a rain's coming. But again and a again that was just a sole drop and nothing more for days after it.
Time was passing by. The man was living, some days were brighter some others were gray, really gray but they also were never completely dark. The man didn't suffer as many other men did do. Days, weeks, months, years... dark gray and light gray ones. He dreamed and looked for.
He died. A gray man who dreamed.
