" She saw herself, a fading figure, more than half-way now towards the sunset end, within sight even of the shadowed emptiness that lay beyond the sun's dipping edge.

She had lingered over-long, expecting a dream to confirm a dream; she had been oblivious of the truth that the lane went rushing just the same.

It was now too late. The speed increased. She had waited, waited for nothing. The seller of dreams was a myth. "

― , Famous Ghost Stories