I am walking along a path in the country, gravelly with muddy puddles. One foot is adorned with a wellington boot, but the other is bare, and squashes into the mud on occasion. It's a pleasant day, and the path - bordered on one side by a grassy verge and a high wooden fence, and on the other by a thick hedge - is quite pleasant too. However, I am distracted by the sound of laughter and conversation coming from the other side of the fence. I clamber up to look over, and there I see another path exactly parallel to mine, except that this path runs beside an idyllic riverside with a beautiful view beyond it, is full of flowers, fun, families enjoying themselves, couples walking blissfully hand in hand, dogs gambolling in the long grass, and similar delights.
Suddenly my own mildly pleasant, but gravelly and lonely path looks forlorn. But the fence is too high to climb. Is it worth going right back to the beginning of my journey so that I can choose the right path this time? How long would that take?
Later, I dream that I am taking a gulp of water from a glass to help me swallow a pill. Only, the glass has virtually no water in, and even that is the green mucky residue from where someone has left some cut flowers. I wake, gagging.