Then, I was my own person, and I left the roof. I walked the city through the night and into the day. I returned to check my mail. There was a job offer there, and I was currently unemployed. But the job offer wasn't meant for me; it was sent to me by mistake. Still, I needed a job, so I went to the building listed and pretended that the papers sent were truly mine. There was a long line of people trailing out the unfinished building that looked like it was being rebuilt after a bomb had gone off. The corporation was so large that no one there was questioning anybody. I learned that others in line with me were also there to claim a job that wasn't theirs. But when I saw that my job would be in security, I decided to leave.

I walked the city again. There was an issue of my anger consuming me, like I was channeling something that threatened to possess me. But it was something I could control with effort. In the evening, I returned home, to the same apartment building where Catherine lived.

I found paper in pastel colors on the sidewalk. They were held down by decorative flowers, like carboard roses, placed in the center. I knew at once that they came from Vincent, and that they likely were meant for Catherine, but I picked them up and started reading them anyway. After I'd read the first poem, and half the second, I realized by their content they were meant for me!

I stood and looked all around, thinking Vincent may be nearby, watching. Then I saw him sleeping on a bench, covered by a thin, ragged blanket. I went, carrying the poetry, and sat on the bench at his knees. He immediately began to stir, and I suddenly wished I had read the poetry he wrote to me before waking him. I didn't want to appear not to appreciate it.

He sat up and we talked. I don't remember what we said. Then I saw Catherine sitting with her legs propped up on a bench to the right of and perpendicular to ours. I saw another Vincent on a bench across from us. But it seemed the other Vincent was only a shade of the original. I looked at Vincent as he studied the other. By the look on his face, it seemed the other was a part of him he was glad to be rid of. It was the part of him that mourned the loss of love that he had shared with Catherine, the part of him he now scorned. The other Vincent went to sit with Catherine, and I felt a little sorrow for her since she had a rather pathetic version of Vincent.

As they sat there, talking and hugging like friends, like Catherine was only tolerating him, Vincent and I embraced and caressed and spoke softly to each other. My hands were under his shirt, and I enjoyed the feeling of fur and flesh. His hands explored me, too. I remember thinking that he'd likely appreciate a mate with larger breasts. And it seemed he was happy to be falling in love naturally, rather than being forced into it by some magical bond that had chosen for him before.

I looked at the man sitting at the table next to me as he raised his cigarette to his lips and inhaled. In my mind, I imagined I could see the poison at work in his body. In seconds, he was struggling to breathe. He fell to the floor and convulsed, but only briefly. As waitresses gathered around him, he died.

I nonchalantly took another drag on my cigarette. These poisons could not kill me; I was not of this world. And I knew what was going on. The beings of the Realm of Labyrinth sought to clear the planet of its human population. They would transform this unmagical world and King Jareth would rule both. I assumed this undertaking (or overtaking, as it were) was due to the life within the Labyrinth withering. I had always known it would happen one day — that this world would be the first to fall when the need for resources became dire. Jareth was vain and self-centered. I knew he cared more about his wardrobe than the needs of the creatures of his realm. I reasoned he was finally forced to act or be overthrown.

Later, in a house, chaos ensued. Zombies were entering Earth — the first of many races that mankind would consider monsters. The gateway was inside this two-story house, and frightened people ran in all directions from the zombies. I calmly walked downstairs as zombies moaned and lumbered up the stairs after them, ignoring me. I had to push one out of my way when I reached the bottom.

I was standing out of the way, looking around at the scene when someone beside me brought my attention to Jareth's approach. Jareth wore a regal coat of navy blue and gold, and he walked slowly, like he wanted time to appreciate the running and screaming of panicking people.

As he came my way, someone made an unkind remark about Jareth, which I knew Jareth heard, but he did not acknowledge. Sitting to my right, my friend, Joseph, who did not like the king and would not stand up in his presence, answered him by saying something like, "You can tell because his eyes turn different colors when that happens." I knew Jareth's eyes were always these two different colors, but I decided not to correct him.

Jareth and I looked each other in the eye. "So," I said, "how fares the realm?"

I don't remembered his exact words, but he answered that the realm was very doing well. He didn't seem to be lying. Mistake or not, I let my emotions show plainly on my face. I was angry at him and bitter about my situation on this planet he was now taking over, and I was also disappointed because I wanted him and his realm to suffer in my absence for what he'd done to me — sending me into exile, or whatever had happened between us.

He could easily read it in my eyes — that I had wished suffering upon him and all of his realm.

"Oh . . . I see." The words came out slowly as he came to the unpleasant realization of my state of mind. He looked sad, as though he'd hoped to reconcile us, but discovered it impossible.

Then he was gone, and I spent the rest of the dream trying desperately to get back to the Labyrinth. Not for Jareth. Seems I wanted to retrieve something while I had a chance. With Jareth overseeing his new world, perhaps I thought the thing I wanted would not be guarded. I don't know.

I'd found a woman from the Labyrinth who'd been on Earth, sending back needed things to the realm. She had passed for human for years and had learned how to blend flawlessly among them. I told her she had to take me back to the Labyrinth. She agreed, but so many things kept delaying us.

I remember another woman from the Labyrinth, who now worked in a factory on Earth, stopping us to show my guide a silver wide-looped earring with an embossed fleur-de-lis and a little looping chain. My guide was polite, but told the girl that they already had this in the realm. That's when I understood that there were people from the Labyrinth all over Earth, and they had been sending things back home through this coordinator.

The last thing I remember is that my son was suddenly there with some other children, and the woman was telling me that I couldn't leave the children behind (she was trying to convince me not to go back to the Labyrinth). I told her I'd take the children with us if I had to, but I had to get back.

There was large work force that walked to and from work over hills as they sang of the goodness of walking. Men, women, and children walked to the city early in the morning, and, after a long day's work, they walked home in the evening. They were good workers. And they were being chosen for jobs over the people who lived in the city, who had special worker cards that should have ensured their employment. Many city families were suffering because the country families were taking all the jobs.

In one cottage close to the city, a poor mother and daughter had little to eat and were running out of gold coins. All the gold they had in the house were twelve coins in a box near the round, bricked hearth where a large cauldron sat.

Or so they thought.

One day, the daughter was alone in the kitchen. She wore a pink-and-white striped dress and crimson apron, and a white bonnet over her blond hair. She looked at her job card and her mother's. They both should have been working. If there was an opening at certain jobs, they should be among those considered for them. But the invading work force was strong and healthy and happy to work. Employers were hiring them even though they were supposed to choose from those citizens with job cards. The girl cried at the injustice of it. She threw open the cupboards, exposing shelves that were bare except for the empty containers they held.

In one cupboard a large doll sat. It resembled a harlequin and looked very old. She banged her head against its head in anger. The face fell in a bit. But then, suddenly, the head erupted in gold coins as more gold coins magically fell like rain inside the small cottage. It took a moment for her shock to wear off, and then she laughed as she looked at all the gold covering the floor.

And then the doll came to life.

He jumped down from the cupboard and was as tall as a man. He took a more human shape and lost the look of the harlequin. He told the girl that all the gold was hers, but not until it had all been melted in her cauldron and made into a thing that would bring her and her mother great wealth.

Together, they scooped all the gold coins from the floor and dropped them into the cauldron. He stirred them as they melted. He told the girl that all the gold in the house must be added to the melting pot. The girl was reluctant to add the twelve that belonged to her and her mother because those were truly theirs, and they could not spend one large golden item.

Her mother entered, bewildered. The man, naked and with flesh the color of gold, did not acknowledge her presence. The daughter quickly explained the situation to her mother. Their twelve coins had not yet gone into the cauldron, but the mother did finally agree to add them. In they went. But the golden man wanted more.

The citizens soon learned of what was happening. People from all around were bringing any gold they had to add to the cauldron. The girl collected what the people offered outside their small cottage.

At this point, I became the girl.

People were bringing me watches, jewelry, anything. Then Mr. T. walked up and offered all his necklaces! The crowd couldn't believe it. He was giving up all that gold! But he did it without hesitation. A couple of his necklaces were silver. These I tried to return to him, but he insisted I have them. When his neck was free of decoration, he left.

I took all the new items inside and sat beside the hearth to busy myself taking the things apart to get at the gold. As I pulled apart a small clock, I watched my strange, nude benefactor as he stood, stirring the golden contents of our cauldron. I wondered what it was he intended to make with all the gold, and how it would make me and my mother wealthy beyond our dreams. He would not tell me. He did not say it, but I knew he wanted me to trust him to work magic for us.

I said nothing, and went back to work. There was a Vulcan device of some sort. (Yes, Star Trek.) It was light and dark blue, and it had gold wires inside it that were difficult to get at. There were two of these things. I looked up to see that the man had taken the other apart — it was in pieces beside the cauldron — but he hadn't been able to successfully remove its gold wires.

I was staring at the ends of the wires, wondering how we were going to extract them. Then I looked at the man. His skin was nearly the color of a human's! For the first time, I saw him for the male that he was. His was very attractive, with a lean with perfectly proportioned, well-muscled body. The flesh was smooth and flawless, and it was not tanned, but had a healthy glow.

I finally raised my gaze to his head. He was not turned toward me, but I easily saw he was deeply troubled. I asked what was wrong. He answered something like, "I can't do it. I'm not going to be able to make it." Such disappointment and sadness there was in his voice!

I rose and put my hands on his bare shoulders. He didn't respond to my touch. He was looking at a part of the Vulcan device that he held in his right hand. I smoothed my hand down his arm to the piece and gently took it from him and set it down. Then I ran my hand up his thigh and stroked his half-erect penis upward.

This he did respond to, but in a way as though he'd never felt physical sensation before. And then I knew he hadn't. He'd never felt pleasure. With delicate strokes, I caressed his manhood, awakening him to that part of his man's body that he'd never noticed before. Then we moved as one toward a cot in the corner. I stroked his chest, his arms, his back. He was lost in new and pleasurable sensations. Then, alas, I was awakened.

I hosted a food get together thing that Alton Brown came to. I had hired an entertainer for the event, singer/magician/commedian Michael Gallager. He was entertaining a group that was eating . . . and he had taken his pants off. Alton was with me and some others and I was embarrassed by this, but only because it was a special occasion with Food Network filming. I thought Michael was really funny.

But this was supposed to be an event that wasn't staged; it was supposed to be something that was usually held. I was supposed to have known everyone there. When Michael came through to our area after his dinner performance, I scolded him for the pants-off part of his performance, but I tried to do it in a playful, friendly manner, like he was a friend. In front of Alton, I made a joke to Michael about firing him. He took it as serious and started to leave, but I stopped him in time and told him I was joking. From that moment, Michael and I began to like each other.

Then I asked if he knew any old songs like those Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra used to sing. I wanted him to sing a certain song, but I couldn't remember the name of the one I was trying to request. McDonald's "Mac Tonight" kept popping into my mind, and I couldn't think beyond the image of that moon-headed man singing at his piano. So, I gave up trying.

Later, I overheard a short man with black hair and beard telling someone that I didn't know I was actually 85 years old. I stopped him and asked him to repeat what he said. He told me I was 85 years old. Then he walked away from me and faded away. I started screaming. Concerned others came to help me, and I told them what happened. Some thought what he said was just nonsense, but I could see that some of them had something to hide.

I asked these certain people how old they were as though I knew they were far older than they looked. I stopped a lady who looked over 90 years old. I asked her how old she was and she said 95. I told her I didn't believe her. She then admitted she was 97. I decided she was telling the truth.

Michael finished on the stage, and I asked him how old he was. He didn't appear to be over 40. He tried to avoid the question, but finally told me he was 86. Then he said he was 92. Then he said he was 82. I couldn't believe it. What was going on?

Michael or someone told me that we were part of a H.E.X. experiment. H.E.X. was a large and mysterious coorporation that was powerful enough to operate covertly. No one really knew what they did, exactly.

I discovered that there was at least one agent there who was trying to expose H.E.X. He was portrayed by Will Smith.

I soon happened by a woman, portrayed by Lisa Kudrow, who was writing something. She folded the paper, and I read on the front three words that would have the initials H.E.X. I knew this was the H.E.X. agent planted among us.

I grabbed her and pinned her against a wall. Everyone thought I'd snapped, but I was trying to save us all. Somehow, I discovered she was an android, recording everything that was happening. Agent Smith, I guess I'll call him, was just within my view. He looked confused, like he was trying to put together what was happening.

I looked him in the eye, and then discreetly drew a hexagon on the wall, hoping he'd understand what I was trying to convey.

The next part was blurry, but the ordeal was suddenly over, and I was standing outside the building. It had recently rained and the sky was still cloudy. I was looking around at the trees, the green grass, a nearby park where young people were playing basketball and riding bicycles. I was old. Very old.

I understood that H.E.X. had created a bubble around the building that had set it outside of normal time and space. It was a human aging experiment. About 50 years passed in about 5 hours. When the bubble had been removed, many people immediately died of old age, having been advanced far beyond the normal life expectancy of any human.

And then Hellboy was there. He was investigating H.E.X. I was glad he was on the case. I felt I could die at peace, knowing H.E.X. would be brought to justice. I think I had just started telling Red of my experience — I was the only survivor, having been young enough to still conceivably be alive after 50 years — when I woke up.

Then I went to the side of the house and saw a rectangular opening in the ground, inside which was a purple and white vortex. Just as I was seriously considering jumping in out of sheer curiosity, Dungeon Master jumped out and, without a word, immediately began laying heartstones to border a large squarish area. (All the heartstones looked like the Stone of Astra.) On the side that we were on, he placed an extra line of heartstones to give us more protection. Just as he finished this, Venger erupted from the ground, surrounded by heartstones!

Dungeon Master and I were outside the heartstone-enclosed area, presumably safe from Venger. But Venger was in a rage, and braved the line over and over as he tried to get to us, though each pass painfully weakened him.

He had crossed the first time, and I jumped into the area. He came back, and I jumped back out. He crossed again, falling as he did, and Dungeon Master pushed me back inside. Once more Venger and I traded places, and this time, he seemed to be considerably weakened.

I stopped, the double line between us, and said, "Why are you doing this? It's me! Don't you recognize me?"

"I do not know you," he said.

This devastated me. I wondered if he came from an alternate universe, or if he had somehow lost his memory. "Venger, don't you remember me?"

"I have never seen you before." He rushed at me again.

I grabbed two heartstones and held them close to me, hoping Venger would hesitate to attack, but he continued to chase me and strike at me when he could.

After a while, I could take it no more. I couldn't fight him. I couldn't bear acting against him, whether he knew me or not. I threw the heartstones away from me and let myself fall to the ground. Dungeon Master made to protect me, but seemed to realize I didn't want his help.

I shouted that I would rather die than be denied by Venger.

Venger closed on me. He knelt down to my level and watched me as though undecided as to what to do next. The way he looked at me. . . . He seemed not to have expected a surrender of this kind.

I closed my eyes and waited, believing he was about to kill me. But he didn't. Instead, he held me. I looked at him and saw the Venger I knew.

"You remember me?"

"Yes, I remember you." He said it as though he had all the time known me and had been testing me or playing a game with me.

It was night. On his nightmare, we flew to my hotel room (or apartment), and then we made love in the tub — I on top of him.

Afterwards, we went to a house where there were a lot of people. I couldn't say they were friends, but they were familiar to me. Venger disguised himself as a human, and looked a lot like Marilyn Manson. His skin was white; his long hair was black; and he wore a lot of gothic makeup. And I looked much the same. We had supper there and hung out on their back porch, sharing a reclining lawn chair.

The house was on the edge of a town. I had a cigarette with one of the men there. We watched a fight break out in the town, glad that the violence didn't reach us.

Then Venger simply wasn't there anymore. I was going to spend the night at this house. I offered to wash the dishes, but as I washed and cleaned up, things kept breaking. None of the mishaps were really my fault. It was just an old house and worn out things were finally giving up as I used them. Nobody held it against me. I made friends with one of the girls there and we talked at the kitchen table until I woke up.

Suddenly, about half a dozen teenagers barge in. All goth, punk, thug types. They worked for Venger. I got the feeling they were like an evil version of Holmes' "Irregulars," if you're familiar with the term.

So they barge in, tell my guest to beat it (which he promptly did), and threateningly inform me that Venger is on his way to see me. I wanted to laugh at them, but I played along. (Remember, I was lucid, but I actually didn't want to alter the dream. I wanted to experience the natural course of the dream, if possible.) By the looks on these kids' faces, it was as though they thought they were delivering terrifying news. They were there to give me this message and to make sure I didn't leave.

But I was happy! I was excited! I couldn't wait for him to arrive! And these kids were all smug, like, "Venger's coming, bitch. You're toast!" I was looking out the window for him, as well as I could, anyway. I was leaning toward the doorway and craning my neck. They were crowded around the doorway and wouldn't let me out of the room.

I saw Venger land, and I heard the neighing of his nightmare. Such a welcome sound! He rode around to the door and entered. The kids left. Venger was wearing more black than usual. But this is about all I can remember, since I was awakened.

Dante and Lady entered a cathedral at night. The only light was that of the moon, filtered through stained glass windows. It was nearly impossible to see.

They knew Vergil was somewhere within, seeking to become Nelo Angelo. Suddenly, he struck out at Dante from the shadows. Dante was out.

Vergil then gave Lady his sword, Yamato, and told her to kill him with it, adding that it had to be her. He lay on a bed and waited for her to kill him. She couldn't do it.

Then I was there, begging Vergil not to do this. He ignored me, and instead positioned the tip of Yamato under his chin as Lady still held it. Vergil then covered his ears and raised up, trying to make the tip pierce his head, but Lady pulled back. I beg him again not to go through with it.

Then Lady pushed the tip into his neck and shifted Yamato's handle toward me, saying I should do it. That movement was all that was needed. Vergil's brain was skewered on Yamato. It fell out onto the floor with a splat. But he wasn't dead. Moments later, his eyelids were fluttering, and he was panting and convulsing.

Then last thing I saw was Vergil as a headless Nelo Angelo.

We — this team of Garak, myself, and a few others — armed ourselves and planned to shoot to kill. Soon, we were in a shootout with Starfleet officers who were protecting Pulaski and Troi, unaware the two were not themselves. Each of us were fighting to get to Pulaski, who was the boss of the pair. I shot to kill anyone who got between me and Pulaski. I did finally get a clear shot, but there was a heavy, rusty dust in the air that shortened the range of my phaser. The beam dissipated before it could get close to her. I fired over and over. I think I hit Troi, but I never saw Pulaski fall. The room was in chaos.

Jump ahead. We apparently won; the danger was past. Garak was acting as doctor, mending our group's wounds, since Pulaski was gone. There were only a few of us left, and we were in some place on some planet at night. I watched Garak at work under a harsh white light for a moment, and then went to stand in the shadow of a large vehicle (military? construction?) with tires nearly as tall as I. Garak walked by to get something from another tent, saying something to me in an offhand sort of way. As he was walking back to the makeshift infirmary, I collapsed.

He was at my side in seconds as I slid down the side of a tire to the ground. I tried, but I couldn't speak or move to look at him. It seemed to be understood that I was dying there in his arms. He acted as if there was nothing that he could do or that could be done for me. He was talking the whole time, begging me not to die, that sort of thing. At one point, I remember he said something about my liking stories of wizards and dragons, and then he said that he wished there were a wizard there to save me.

Movement catches my eye. From the mountains in the distance, I see things flying, landing, then coming right in my direction! I look up again and see a monstrous black dragon in battle with a swarm of much smaller, gray dragons.

This sight had momentarily taken my attention away from the approaching hoard of dragons running my way. I felt them before I heard them. The ground shook as they ran. It was too late to try to get out of their way, besides, the thought crossed my mind that if I moved at all, one might grab me in its jaws and swallow me down as it fled the battle.

I cringed as the first wave ran past me, but nothing happened. They were slowing down and one of them was walking towards me. This one was the only one fitted with a saddle! When he reached me, he started making slow circles around me. It occurred to me to jump on its back, so I grabbed the reigns and walked with it for a few steps. The dragon slowed its pace even more and I finally decided to climb on.

Now that I was higher up, I wanted to see if I could get a better view of this dragon battle. I turned my dragon around and urged him back toward those distant mountains. The others stopped, confused, like they wondered if they should follow. I raised my hand as a signal for them to stay behind. They understood.

We, this dragon and I, had walked a short distance toward the mountains when suddenly it spoke to me! "We can't defeat Kain this way. We should head for the mountains and regroup." He was referring to the mountains that were close to my left from where I was originally standing. The voice was rough and deep, but the intellectual and commanding qualities were impressive. All this caught me off guard and all I could do was look at the back of his head in disbelief. Another disturbing thought entered my mind. Could these barrens be all that remained of Nosgoth?

Suddenly, he jumped back a bit out of reflex. I looked up to see this terrifyingly huge black dragon swooping down and flying our way. "We have to go! Now!" he said. The head of the flying monstrosity was incredible, like looking into evil itself. The face seemed to be made of black bone with no flesh covering it at all; the eyes were a very dark red, almost black. Its overall size still shocked me. Yet, I had to admit to myself, this was the most impressively "designed" dragon I had ever seen.

We turned again and ran for the nearby mountains. The others allowed us to get to the head of the group. We quickly reached the mountainside and formed a line to climb up a narrow incline. During the climb, I looked down at the dragons behind us. I noticed they were all the same color as the mountain. Camouflage. This would be to our advantage.

Near the top of this mountain, there was a large cave entrance. As the dragon I rode entered, he took a station to the side and watched as the others entered and also watched for the approach of Kain. I dismounted and looked at my dragon. I could see in his face that he was also looking for any sign of his dragons who stayed behind to fight Kain so these could escape.

It wasn't long before we saw Kain. He came around very close to us. The remaining dragons still making the ascent froze and seemed to disappear, the camouflage making it appear they were part of the mountain. Excellent! Kain hadn't spotted us. We watched him fly into another cave entrance a good distance diagonally below us.

Finally, all had made it into the safety of this large cave. Far in the back, there was an opening in the floor that allowed us to see this dragon Kain in the cave below. He had brought two humans as prisoners there and we heard him tell them that they were to be bait for Raziel. Then Kain left again.

I made my way down to them to un-tie them. As I did this, other humans appeared from deeper within the mountain to help. I learned that these humans, along with this legion of dragons, were at war with Kain, who had evolved and gained the ability to morph into this huge, demonic dragon form. Kain had discovered that their secret base was somewhere within this mountain and that they were hiding Raziel, their leader. This was the reason for the recent attacks.

I was taken to their headquarters deep inside the mountain and was immediately treated as one of their leaders, which didn't surprise me since the dragons' leader had already accepted me as one. It was as if I had lost my memory and was having to learn who I was...and who I was was leader of this resistance group, second only to Raziel himself.

We had to help Raziel to a new hideout. One man suggested we disguise him as Raziel and he would lead Kain away for as long as he could. He reminded me of Han Solo - it was more from his personality than his looks. It was our only plan so we got to work. Our best efforts didn't result in a very effective disguise in my opinion, but Raziel said that it would be sufficient. He said that while Kain was in dragon form, his eyesight wasn't as good.

When the moment was right, our Raziel imposter descended from the cave entrance and almost immediately the dragon Kain appeared above. He must have been waiting for us to start the move. The imposter moved as fast as he could along the mountainside, but slipped and began skidding at an angle. He hit the ground, but was OK. He crawled inside a crevice at the bottom of the mountain to escape Kain, who began clawing at the crevice opening trying to get at "Raziel".

The plan was working perfectly. Raziel was able to leave safely to begin the journey to the new hiding place. Somehow, I was able to tell our brave imposter that Raziel was safe. He then removed as much of his disguise as he could and showed himself to Kain. Kain froze at the realization of the deception and took to the air immediately, not even wasting time to kill this man, and started tracking the real Raziel.

After a time, as all remained silent outside, we couldn't help but worry that Kain may have caught up with Raziel. No one had any way of knowing until a message could be secretly sent confirming that Raziel had made it safely.

Just then, it occurred to me that I could force Kain to return to us. I knew a spell that I alone could cast to summon Kain against his will, ending his pursuit of Raziel for the time being. I began singing the evocation spell (which was the exact same song from Devil May Cry for the "Watcher of Time" statue where you purchase abilities). A massive vortex of black and blue appeared. We awaited Kain's appearance at the insistence of my spell. Before we saw any results, I woke up.

[*moved]

As this dream began, I was standing outside, near a large crowd of people, both military and civilian, in an area somewhere just outside of the White House. President Bush would soon be giving a speech - he was already standing at a podium on a stage. He was trying to set some sort of example by not allowing anyone near him during his speech. He wanted to be on the stage alone. Two cabinet members approached him out of concern for his safety and were immediately sent away. One was a white man with thick white hair, wearing a tan suit; the other was a black man in a gray suit and nearly bald. I had even muttered to myself, as if speaking to these two men, "He'll send you away. He's not allowing anyone up there." And I remember feeling proud of Mr. Bush. I thought he was rather brave. Then, those thoughts slipped away and I realized what an easy target he was, standing there above everyone else and alone.

Only a few seconds later, there was a loud gunshot. I saw the bullet hit President Bush in his right side. The crowd dove and the military officers raised their weapons and frantically searched for the gunman. From my crouched position, I saw that the President was still standing - he had lost the presence of mind to take cover. He was standing simply because he realized that he still could; he didn't want to fall. I kept saying to myself, under my breath, "Get down. C'mon, get down," willing him to drop and try to take cover. It wouldn't have done any good to shout, he couldn't have heard me in all the commotion or through his pain. Still, he didn't fall - and no one rushed to help him.

Finally, I ran to him myself and wrapped my left arm around his back and took us down into a sort of walled pit that was right behind the stage. I helped him to lie on his back and I covered his wound with his jacket and applied pressure. He kept struggling to get up and I kept struggling to hold him still. Then he told me he felt like he would throw-up so I let him get up. He crawled a few feet away and vomited in the grass. Coincidentally, there were some wet wipes there for me to use to clean him up.

I had taken another clean wipe to wipe his forehead. As I did so, I glanced up to try to get an idea of our current situation - to determine if a danger still existed. What I saw confused and shocked me. To the side of the podium, two military officers were standing in that familiar and dutiful stance. The crowd was standing again and talking amongst themselves, saying such as "I can't believe what just happened!" and other usual exclamations one would hear in this situation. I realized that no one knew that I was in this pit with the President possibly near death!

"The President's been shot!" I shouted.

"Shit!" was the immediate response from an unseen person.

Perhaps I imagined it, but I thought I heard a strong tone of "Why the hell didn't you call out sooner?!" in the person's voice. I had no idea that no one knew! I thought it was just taking time for a medic to arrive. I would have called out sooner if I had known it was necessary!

Still, the guilt overwhelmed me. I felt like a failure. All my attention had been on getting the President out of the line of fire and, at the same time, trying to keep him from bleeding to death. I felt even worse since the first person to reach us was his wife, First Lady Laura Bush. All I could do was apologize with all my heart. I started to tell her that I honestly didn't know that no one knew what had happened, but I didn't want to start spouting excuses as she discovered her husband with a hole in his side.

As I helped President Bush to stand, a kind-looking black male officer told us a Life Flight hellicopter had just been called to the scene. Suddenly, the President fought to get to the microphones at the podium. The climb from the pit, as shallow as it was, was too steep for us with my having to hold him up. Instead, I reached out and grabbed a stand that held a mic and brought it in front of him. He obviously had something to say and if these were possibly his last words to the public, I was determined for him to have the chance to say them.

He began speaking to the people, but he wasn't making much sense. He also couldn't stand still, even with my helping him. He'd sway one way, then the other. I kept chasing him with the microphone trying to keep it in front of his face so he could be heard. I remember him saying that he loved being president of this great nation and that it was exciting to be here. The rest was slurred and getting worse every second.

Finally, he seemed to start losing consciousness and it became impossible to hold him up. I dropped the mic and softened his fall the best I could. He was down, but still struggling, though not as fiercely as before. There was no way he was getting back up this time. I spun my head towards the black officer.

"Where's that chopper!?"

"It's about to land, but you have to make the President get up and out of the pit," he answered. (There was some unspoken issue in the dream about President Bush refusing to leave the general area of the stage no matter what. Who knows? It was a dream.)

I was afraid to move him again, but since I had to, I used all my strength and pulled him to his feet once more. I more or less carried him to the edge of the pit and used my body to push him to the top. Once there, two new officers took his arms and carried him to the Life Flight.

There was nothing more for me to do. I climbed out of the pit and saw that the crowd was steadily dispersing. I took a moment to look around, uselessly searching the tops of nearby buildings to see what I could see, and to guess where the gunman had been positioned. It was pointless; I had no eye for such things.

I began walking around. It wasn't until then, having a moment to actually think, that I realized that I didn't know how I got there or where I would go next. There were memories in my head, but they were vague and not my own. Somehow, I knew that I worked in the White House in some capacity that brought me in daily contact with the President. An analyst? A speechwriter? A secretary? I had no idea, but I knew I was something of those sorts. I was trying to piece these memories together and, at the same time, keep my more personally familiar memories separate when everything went black.

Then next thing I knew I was waking up in a large bed. I remember the bedspread had a brown, orange, and white pattern. I felt very groggy and it took conscious effort to sit up. There was a desk just a few feet away from the foot of the bed, and there was a man sitting at the desk looking at me! He was black, but light-skinned. He had a slender build and even though he was sitting, I could tell he was rather tall. After a minute, he spoke, saying something about my being awake finally.

"How long have I been asleep?" I asked.

"Thirty-four hours," he replied flatly.

"Thirty-four hours?!"

Sparks of pain shot through my head when I raised my voice. I sat holding my head.

"Do you know who you are?" he asked me.

"No...I can't remember."

"Your name is De'Elisa Devonne Love." (I'm guessing at a spelling of "De'Elisa", but it was pronounced "day-ee-LEE-suh".)

The last name was fairly easy to remember, but I repeated the first and middle names over and over - not because I hoped it would spark a memory, I knew it wouldn't or shouldn't. I wanted to remember it because I thought it would be a good idea to know the name I was to go by.

Shakily, I stood up and I knew I must look a mess after sleeping for so long. I knew I was wearing the same clothes as before - a white blouse, tan dress-jacket, pleated tan skirt, hose, and high heels. This man seemed not to care at all what I looked like. The whole situation felt wrong and I wanted to leave. I headed for the door, but just as I reached it, First Lady Laura Bush came in.

Remembering the last time I saw her, I fell into apologizing again for not calling for help sooner for her husband. She ignored this and simply asked me for my name. I said my name exactly as I had just heard it. She looked at me as if she didn't believe it for a second, almost as if she would accuse me of lying. I saw this in her expression and told her it wasn't my name (because I knew it really wasn't). With a slight turn of my head, I gestured to the man behind me and said that it was the name I was told was mine. She gave me a stern look and said, "Devonne Love...the stalker."

This had me totally confused for a second. Then another memory surfaced. I remembered having read in a newspaper of a stalker named Devonne Love. But this wasn't me! I wasn't a stalker! What was going on? Was someone trying to pin this identity on me??

I stormed past her, into the hallway, and just started walking. The walls were tan, like my jacket and skirt, like that cabinet member's jacket - the one who had approached President Bush on the stage. The hallway was familiar to me, but only vaguely. I had the feeling that I had an office of sorts in this building, but I had no idea where. The halls were oddly arranged, some met at angles. Some rooms looked like college classrooms. I walked hurriedly and searched for several minutes trying to find something more familiar, but I was utterly lost.

Somehow, I made it back to the office where I awoke. Mrs. Bush was no longer there, but the tall, slender man was standing in front of his desk. His smug posture sickened me. He knew I'd end up finding my way back to his office.

(At this point, the dream stopped making sense. It wasn't even very clear from here on. This man tried to convince me that I had a relationship with him. A little later on in the dream, I did end up having sex with him, but I had no feelings for him whatsoever. I just wanted to play along until I could learn the truth about what had been done to me.)

[*moved]

I jumped from the side of the porch area and ran to hide behind the next house and watch for him to come out. When he did, he was surprised that I was gone. He looked around then asked a waitress if she had seen me leave. Of course she hadn't. No one had. It touched me that he seemed genuinely concerned over my disappearance. He had no notion of who I really was. I wanted to go back to him, but I didn't know how I would explain my absence.

I walked to the front of the house that was hiding me and crossed the road to stand behind a tree straight across from the restaurant to watch from there. I began thinking back to how my mother had once had Enabran Tain put in prison. She had worked for the same intelligence service I did. Whichever it was, the dream didn't specify. Section 31?

After she had exposed Tain, but before bringing him in, she had dared to scold him, as one would a child, for allowing himself to be captured so easily. I remember thinking how bold that had been to speak to Tain, the head of Cardassia's Obsidian Order, that way. It would have been humorous if it had been anyone other than Tain. She had taken a big risk. To successfully carry out an assignment was one thing, Tain may actually have respected that in his own way; but to gloat and insult, that was another. I don't know if she was still alive in the time of the dream or not.

I thought of going through with my assignment. I was still in a position where I could have a couple more operatives come in and quietly abduct him as he left. I had pretty much done my part. He was here, alone, and I had all the information needed.

I still hadn't quite made up my mind when the dream changed storylines.

Now, I was walking between Tain and Garak, Tain on my left. We were either on Earth or Bajor. Trains were bringing Terrans and Bajorans to a processing facility where identification papers were being prepared for all the prisoners. They were probably being assigned to various Cardassian labor camps.

Apparently this was my first exposure to Terrans and Bajorans. Tain was giving me a tour of the facility and educating me on the different species and races and cultures as we went. It seemed the entire Alpha quadrant was new to me. I understood my place as Tain had established it: I was now in training to be an agent of the Obsidian Order. Tain had taken me under his wing, and my loyalties were more to him, personally, than to the Order itself or even to Cardassia. I knew I would die for Tain, perhaps even for Garak, whom I knew was a favorite of Tain's.

I was so blindly devoted that when Tain mentioned something contemptuous of Terrans as we passed them, I became so enraged that I jumped among a group of them armed with blades like Lucia's Cutlaseer from Devil May Cry 2 and challenged them to fight me. It wouldn't have been a challenge at all. I knew I could kill them all quickly, even if they had been armed. I didn't fully understand why we were allowing these animals to live in the first place. They were the enemy. Or at least they had been, now they were slaves.

They all backed away from me in shock and fear. I could imagine them all as bloody piles around me, but before the massacre could begin, Tain eased me away from the scene.

He made me see my flaws instantly and clearly. He had a gift for doing that. He was stern without having to raise his voice. I respected him even more in that moment, if that were possible. I felt ashamed of my behavior. I had amused Tain with my ignorance, but annoyed him with my brashness. He didn't openly show either his amusement or his annoyance, but I knew. I knew him. I understood that I had a long way to go before I was truly of any use to him or the Order. I didn't want to disappoint him further. From then on, I paid close attention to his manner, and Garak's, and took my cues from them. We were superior, but we mustn't be cruel. These slaves were intelligent beings. I still couldn't see them as anything more than animals.

Soon, Garak walked off on his own and Tain and I found a place to stop and rest. He sat down and I said something to him ending with, "I have disappointed Enabran Tain."

Without a glance, he said, "Don't use my real name in public."

I had realized my error as soon as I'd said it. Of course I wasn't to use his name! How foolish could I be! I felt twice as bad as I had when I'd allowed my anger to control me earlier. I was glad Garak wasn't there to see this latest screw-up. But then Tain looked at me and saw my renewed shame and laughed good-naturedly. It made me laugh too. His laugh let me know that I was expecting too much of myself so early in my training. And that he himself wasn't expecting anything of me yet. So we had an understanding of sorts, and moved on.

Garak had returned and I was following him and Tain up a grassy slope to another building. Someone called out behind us. We turned and I recognized the young Cardassian soldier approaching us. I had met him sometime earlier and made friends with him. He had mentioned how he'd love to meet Enabran Tain, or even simply be in his presence. I had made no promises of introductions, but he now looked determined to capitalize on the chance encounter.

Tain was not amused. I tried to get the message across to Tain not to be too harsh with him, but he didn't care. Garak stayed silently at my right side as the other two exchanged a few words. I felt rather embarrassed for my new friend. I wished he had better sense than to approach such a man like this, but he didn't seem disappointed in the least. As he had said, he only wanted to be in Tain's presence at least one brief time. He was happy with his moment, such as it was, and left.

Tain, Garak, and I entered the building on the small hill. There was a lot going on inside. Hundreds of Terrans and Bajorans were lined up to receive their papers. They were careful not to meet our eyes. There were Cardassian soldiers spaced every few meters carrying phaser rifles and intently watching the prisoners. I found it all fascinating, so much so that I soon found myself separated from my mentors.

I wandered around studying the procession of prisoners as much as looking for Tain and Garak. The soldiers all seemed to know who I was. They barely spared a glance at me as I aimlessly walked on.

Toward the front of the building, I heard my name mentioned. I followed the voice and discovered a Cardassian lecturing to a group about the Bajoran wormhole. I heard him say that I had been found at the "nipple" of the wormhole, wherever that was. He went on to explain that I could alter the nature of the wormhole to send people 2000 years into the future. I wasn't aware I had such an ability. I stopped and thought. I realized that I didn't know where I had come from. I had no memory of a past. It occurred to me that Tain might be planning to use me in some way, and I knew I would do anything he asked of me. I didn't know why, I just knew that I would.

I eventually moved away from my vantage point and was absent-mindedly running my tongue along the inside of my upper lip. I felt small, spiked protrusions there, but thought nothing of it. I was more involved now with finding Tain and Garak.

I searched for someone I could question. I don't know why I didn't just ask one of the soldiers. I soon spotted Chief O'Brien at the head of one of the lines. He was arguing with a secretary about his papers and some other people had come over to try to help sort it out. I waited until he was finished to get his attention. He didn't want to acknowledge me, but finally he gave me his attention and I asked him if he knew where the two Cardassians who entered with me were. He didn't. I let him go.

Just then, my mouth was suddenly full of what felt like toothpicks and small oysters. I bent forward and spit it all out. They were small, transparent, embryonic sacs attached to sharp, brown spikes, some of which had embedded in the floor, holding the embryos about an inch and a half above the floor. Over the next few minutes I continued to spit these out as they came from behind the skin inside my mouth in front of my front teeth. Finally, I was spitting only one or two then it was over. I was so confused over what I was and what unexpected thing might happen to me next. I never found Tain before I woke up.

[*moved]

Then, we both got up from the table and held hands as we went to another room where more people were. That was a tad awkward too, for both of us. It was like we weren't certain that that was the thing for us to do, but we did it anyway.

We walked through the doorway to the next room, and I suddenly raised his hand to my mouth and licked the back of his hand. I think I did it because his skin looked and felt so good, and I discovered that his skin smelled and tasted good, too. He wasn't put off by what I did, but he did give me a questioning look. I told him that I loved his smooth skin. I clearly remember complimenting the smoothness. Unfortunately, that's all of the dream that I can remember.

[*moved]

I put my hands on his dead shoulders and within seconds he was conscious, but it didn't take us long to realize that he wasn't the same. I remember specifically that he "couldn't tell the difference between a sunrise and a sunset." If I had been able to revive him sooner, there may have been no mental damage at all, but he had lost much of his memory and intelligence. I knew that if there was any chance for him to be restored, I had to act quickly.

I took him and broke into a Dominion cloning facility. Somehow I had forced everyone who had been inside to evacuate. Time was of the essence, and it would have taken too long to kill them all. I sat Garak down next to a blood enhancer. I plugged a u-shaped device into his arm and hooked him up to the machine with tubes. I was able to see his blood components as colored rectangles on a large monitor. Red rectangles simply signified hemoglobin, Yellow was for general health, and Pink was his intelligence, memory, and higher functions. One rectangle of a color was a weak component, Two connected was better, a stack of Three was a perfect component. So, many stacks of Three of each color was highly desired.

The analysis on the monitor didn't look good. He had plenty Third level Red components, but the Yellows were divided among Twos and Ones, and the Pinks were almost all Ones - average health, and low intelligence. I began the blood enhancement, programming primarily to sacrifice Third levels on Reds, and secondarily, the Second levels of Yellows in favor of restoring Pinks as much as possible. Restoring his health would be a simple medical issue. Restoring intelligence and memory could take years. The priority had to be Pink.

I watched as top Red levels were rebuilt onto Pinks and Second level Yellows were broken down for the transfer. More and more single Pinks were gaining level Two status, but I didn't see any gaining a Third level. He was improving, but not by much. The blood enhancer was doing the best it could do. All I could do was wait.

When it was over, I took him back to headquarters. He was better, but he wouldn't be of any more use to the Resistance. He had been retarded when I brought him back to life. Now, he at least had the intelligence of a five-year-old. I knew it would take years for him to be anything near normal. I watched as a couple of our people took him away to a back room to eat or rest. I regretted not leaving him dead. He was better off.

[*moved]

Everyone was drunk on Brandy. Kirk and Spock were both wearing eyepatches just for fun. I was the only sober one there, so it was very frustrating when we passed through a temporal anomaly and no one cared that it felt like the ship was about to be torn apart.

After the crisis passed, we ascertained that we had traveled backwards through time twelve years. It was the year 1992. No one had a clue as to how to get us back to our own time, so we were stuck in the past. We all decided that we would each find a place where we would live and try not to interfere with the timeline. A drunk Spock put me on shipwide speakers so I could give a general announcement to everyone aboard. For some reason, I identified myself to the crew as "Emperor T'Pel" (probably because I recently saw the episode of ST:TNG where "Ambassador T'Pel" was a Romulan spy posing as a Vulcan ambassador), and I specifically remember telling everyone to "be strong."

As I was explaining what had happened, I saw my grandmother's house - that was where I was to disembark to live out my life - and started giggling. And just looking at Spock made my giggles worse, so I ended the message mid-sentence and ... parked my car at my grandmother's. Everything Star Trek-related vanished.

I got out and walked up to her door. I saw my mother standing just off the porch and my grandmother opened the door. I understood that I was replacing my younger self, and that my appearance would be a shock. My grandmother was a bit shocked, but she accepted me and we hugged briefly. My mother looked at me like she knew what had happened and how. I was a little embarrassed and told her "It was a--" And then we both finished the last part together: "--transporter accident."

Then I saw my granddaddy (who is dead in real life). I picked up my five-year-old son, who was suddenly there with my husband, and said, "See? You finally get to meet your great-grandfather!" As soon as I'd said it, I feared that my granddaddy, and everyone around us, would know what I meant. But no one seemed to notice. My son gave him a big hug around the neck.

I saw my Uncle J, who was soon to start college. He didn't have a clue as to what he wanted to do with his future at that time, I learned as we talked. I told him that he would be incalculably rich one day, and started to hint that he could share some of that wealth when it came, but restrained myself.

I went inside and noticed the calendar: 1992. It was so strange to see that. After that, I couldn't stop myself from talking about the future. My husband went to lie down in my grandparents' bedroom while I visited and talked to everyone.

I saw a painting on the wall. There was a man with white hair wearing a red trench coat with black belts. I told my sister that if she had lived in my time, she would believe that the man in the painting looked a lot like Dante from Devil May Cry.

I saw my young uncle hooking up their cable tv. I told them all about the technologies that would be available for tvs. I saw the original PlayStation console on top of the tv and mentioned the PS2.

I avoided telling anyone that my granddaddy would die in 1999 from cancer, but I wanted so much to say something.

When I started talking about some of David Bowie's music, a young Hispanic guy came up to me with a rolled-up piece of paper. It was a roll of autographs he'd collected. I found Bowie's signature, and also Bill O'Reilly's. The guy walked away as I scanned the roll for other names I recognized.

When I was finished, I went to find him to give it back. I had planned on joking with him by saying "You're giving this to me, right?" But I forgot all about that when I saw him standing over the bathtub. In a flash, I remembered that my son had curiously walked into the open bathroom where a little Hispanic girl, about four years old, was taking a bath. I hadn't remembered seeing him after that. I had been too caught up in experiencing the past and telling the secrets of the future. I had been absolutely giddy, and had completely forgotten to keep an eye on my little boy.

He was floating, face-down, in the tub that had been filled to the rim with water. He was wearing a dark purple shirt. The little girl was face-up in the bottom of the tub. The Hispanic guy just quietly moved out of my way, he probably knew it was too late to do anything. But I grabbed my son out of the water and ran with him into the living room. I set him down on the floor and tried pushing on his abdomen, but I didn't know how to do it right. I started screaming, and looked around the room. Everyone was sitting still on the couch and chairs just staring at me. I looked at my uncle because he was the youngest and smartest there. I begged him to help me, but it was like he, and everyone else in the room, was frozen. They all were unmoving and expressionless.

My mistake and its consequences really started to sink in in that instant. I had been so happy just moments before, pondering the paradox of being lost in memories of everyone's futures, and my son had probably been dead all that time. I started screaming again, down on my knees beside him on the floor. All else was quiet. No one moved to help me. No one moved at all. I was still screaming when I woke up.

[*moved]