David dreams. There are no pictures, no actions, no words. There is only a song, but one of such beauty that he needs nothing else. He listens to the words, feels them, becomes drawn to them. They speak to him, they tell him about his life, about his losses, his failings. They tell him where he is going wrong.
He listens to the music, absorbs it, trying to memorise every note. It is at once melancholy and passionate and joyous and mournful and vibrant and inspiring. He concentrates, concentrates real hard. This is a moment, and a song, he will never, ever forget, will never allow himself to forget.
He wakes, and finds himself staring at a blank white ceiling. The song is already but a distant half-memory. He shuts his eyes and hums a bland, lifeless tune and tries to remember how the song went. He tries real hard.