I go to bed earlier these days. I do that not only because of exhaustion from the day’s work or the troublesome office politics that I try not to carry home in my mind. I do that also to dream of good things, of having someone to talk to, to hug at the end of the day. But I discovered pretty soon that dreams are not gratifying. Some said one has to live his dreams to live a fulfilled life, to be alive. I am only alive in my dreams. I guess that counts as an escape from my zombie-like real life.