Bridge building by night

"—As if too brittle or too clear to touch! The cables of our sleep so swiftly filed, Already hang, shred ends from remembered stars." "Voyages" by Hart Crane

Every night, as they slept miles apart in their separate worlds, he in his bed, and she in hers, they unknowingly shared the Bridge Building Dream. In it they dream that they are building a bridge towards each other, they are not acting together, hand in hand, in concert, but they are building to the same plan, following the same inordinately complex design that is required for the dream to function, and using the same ethereal materials that could dematerialize at any moment should their attention wander. They were building two spans of the bridge, that would meet at a predetermined spot in space and time, to unite themselves into one gigantic structure that would close forever the gap between them.
Night after night the pavement was slowly raised foot by foot, and the curvatures grew broader and stronger, the cables intertwining to create the cat's cradle wherein the builders sleep when they dream about sleep. Far below the raw masonry edges the oceans churned, occasionally a tongue of wave would leap up hungrily and carry away a loose chunk of material, that would later have to be replaced.
Why they or anyone else has this dream is unknown, each builder raises their edifice to join with another, sometimes the joining and completion is in alignment, sometimes it misses by a fraction, the fusing impossible.
She had in her mind the idea of a bridge arcing away to a metropolis, whose lights glimmered on the calmer water off in the distance. His bridge arches off way into the sky to touch the moon that shines on the snow of the Himalayas. One with her feet on the land and one with his feet in the skies, looking Brahma-like, towards and away from each other at the same time, face to face, spine to spine, spinning their impossible structures in mid-air.
Purposefully the sun begins to flood the room where he is sleeping and touches his eyelids, as he wakes the dream begins to fade and all his night's work sinks back down into the waters from where it was constructed, he must dredge up the materials from the depths every night to continue again. Still deeply asleep on the other side of the ocean she is distracted for a moment from her work by the slow, deep rumbling coming to her from miles away. A distant storm? She thinks. The sound of steel and concrete collapsing into the waves, coming from somewhere indistinct. Way over the dream's horizon a light that had brightly pierced the sky shudders for a second then winks out, darkness rises for a second then falls back, leaving silence.
She shudders fitfully in her sleep, her eyes blink open in the pitch darkness of her room, confused about where she is, she stretches momentarily, then without a second's thought turns back to continue with her work, there's always so much that needs to be done before waking.