Do insects dream?
We know they do. We know one such person—Hank Pym. He did.
In his most recurring dream, he traveled with his girlfriend, taking in the sights of the Danube River, passing through Budapest's most famous residential district, and wandering its antique streets.
More accurately, she was not his girlfriend, but his fiancée. They had planned to marry after returning from the trip.
Just as he was wondering which route would get them back to their hotel fastest, the screech of a black sedan's tires scraping across the pavement rang in his ears.
"No one can escape!"
Almost as the car flashed past, someone leaning out of the window said those words, and then the masked man raised a submachine gun.
It was a dream. Pym could do nothing but watch as his fiancée shielded him and was cut down in the hail of bullets.
As the car sped away and he held his fiancée, sobbing soundlessly, an explosion rocked Budapest. Agents from the Logistics Directorate and Hydra then swarmed toward the blast like moths to a flame.
Everyone passed by him, yet no one spared him a glance. It was as though the world had abandoned him.
He woke up, drenched in cold sweat as always. Though it was the middle of the night, he could not fall asleep again. Watching the woman he loved die in his arms was probably something no one could forget for the rest of their life.
The nightmare kept replaying in his mind.
Though many years had passed, he could still see his girlfriend's phantom. She was right there, talking to him, playing with him.
As a scientist, he knew something was wrong with him mentally. He had spoken with a psychologist within S.H.I.E.L.D., but standard treatments for post-traumatic stress disorder