Recurrent

I’m walking down the hallway with windows on both sides
There’s a faint glow beneath the door stretching out in front of me
I never reach it, though my pace hastens, panting, breathless
My legs are lead balloons, utterly useless
My head is swollen, pounding, throbbing
Sweat begins to pour down my face, the heat unbearable
I look to my left; the window’s clouded over with a pale fog
I spin to the right and see a view of the ocean
With the horizon vaguely visible in the distance
Oh to feel the cool, salty air, the wet, gentle breeze
But the jamb is stuck, won’t budge, inoperable
I linger in the moment with relief just beyond my grasp
I thrust myself at the glass, nothing
So I ram it again, no progress
Repeatedly I slam, I beat, I wail
But still there is no improvement, no movement, no relief
Then I sink to the floor, melting
Reduced to a pile of slime and goop
No structure, no form, just a people puddle oozing down the hall
What am I to make of this recurring dream?