John wakes from another nightmare. Worse this time, though, not for the dream but for the waking: Bolting upright to find himself in hospital gown, on something like an autopsy table, dimly lit, in an infinite space... filled with sleeping people in gowns on tables.
An eye on a mechanical stalk descends from darkness above. “Sleep,” it soothingly suggests.
“What...” John’s breath is panicky. “What is this?”
“World peace,” the eye replies, its voice strangely comforting. “At last.”
John’s pulse slows as he ponders the words. Then, eventually, with a calm nod, he lies back down and closes his eyes.
For consideration: "You may say that I'm a dreamer / But I'm not the only one."