Every dream was like this, vague and full of strain. He seemed to be running to meet the other but was never able to reach him. 

He dreamt of an endless winter, and a ghostly figure in the far distance. It was still. He thought perhaps it was a person, knee deep in the snow, so with difficulty he strained to reach them. The further he walked the harder it became, snow seemed to pile out of nowhere, and a freezing wind began to bite at his exposed face. His features painted over with colors of red and blue, his limbs were numb, and his breath formed into thick clouds before his own eyes. He pressed on, but the figure just seemed unreachable. For a single moment he stopped to look back at the carved out trail he left behind, cutting through the purest, white snow. With determination, he traveled again towards the unmoving figure, and finally his efforts were paying off--he was getting closer. He could now see, it was a guy, but in this blizzardly cold, he wore nothing more than a casual outfit of jeans and a shirt. Everything about this guy felt out of place, his lack of movement, his outfit, and most of all the lack of face. Or to be more clear, the straining traveller's inability to see it, he just could not catch the details, not a single one. Now they seemed so close to each other, just a few strides away, but suddenly the grownd shook and they both fell face first towards the thick layer of snow. The unknown guy completely vanished into the air, while the other was greeted by the freezing, wet properties of snow.