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Waiting for the BusWaiting for the BusIts a normal day, in a normal life, heading for the bus stop to endure another long trip. A homeless man is sitting on the sidewalk ahead of me, with a sign and a hat beside him. Not an unusual sight in a large city. Yet it is often by their own accord that they are in such a status. Typical.Regardless, I drop a dollar in the hat as I walk by. He neglects to thank me, but I say nothing, and resume walking. As I sit down on the bus stop bench, I remember I had forgotten to buy coffee. "No matter," I thought to myself. I decided I would just try and get a little sleep before the bus arrived. A few minutes later my eyes were closed, and I dreamed.I dreamed that I was in a dark room, with an illuminated door at the end of the hall. It seemed to stare back ominously at me, as if beckoning me towards it. I stepped forward. It was made out of wood, smoothed and painted a shiny white, possessing intricate and ornate gold decorations. The handle was made of glass, impossib