A thought-provoking story this - Doyle just trying to hold everything together with increasing edgy desperation, and Bodie exuding strength and solidarity, comfort and gentle warmth. Yet they are still both very much the men we see on screen.

My favourite sentence is this one:

...and the dream flapped brilliant butterfly-wings around him, then because he was on his sanity's knife-edge and could not afford it, folded itself to a two-dimensional greyness, flipped to a single plane and disappeared.

Just beautiful.