But in an instant, it was as dark as night, and the children had disappeared. I stood. None of us had any idea what happened. We just stood there in shock. I noticed a faint, fuzzy light far away at the opposite end of the field, but no matter how I tried to describe it or show where it was exactly, my friends couldn't see it. I looked at one of them and said something. When I looked back to the light, it was closer. The others now saw it, and we were all afraid.

A shadow extended from the spherical light and stretched itself along the ground. I remember it had a certain shape that I recognized, but I don't remember now exactly what shape it had. When the shadow reached me, a large transparent tentacle lifted me into the air, dropped me inside a cement box, and closed the lid. But I wasn't alone. It was in there with me.

"Where are the children, and why did you take the light away?" I asked it.

"That's what I do," it answered in a deep, placid, masculine voice.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Neevis-Beevis." (either that or it could have been "Neevis-Peevis" - a ridiculous name in any case, but that's how dreams go)

"Two names for one being?"

"That is how I am known."

Then my alien friends somehow managed to remove the cement lid. I guessed that the shadow-creature had been distracted by our conversation and forgot to hold the lid. My friends pulled me out of the box and tried to hold me as the shadow wrapped itself around me again to pull me back inside. I told my friends to let go, to let the thing have me. I told them everything would be alright. I had a strong feeling that the shadow's patience with them was wearing thin and he might kill them.

I was taken back inside the cement box with the shadow. I knew he was there, but I couldn't get him talking again. I had a feeling that he wanted to continue the conversation, but I could sense that the distraction had frustrated him. He was having trouble getting back into a talkative mood. I know I said things to it, trying to recapture the moment, but I either woke up or the dream changed before we could continue.

I made up my mind that I would not raise a second child. I finally told my husband exactly what I felt. I made him understand that either we give up the baby for adoption, or I would be gone one way or another, whether that meant suicide or running away. I could tell this hurt him, but he agreed - for the sake of keeping our lives peaceful, it seemed. A moment later I was worried it wouldn't work since, I suddenly realized, I hadn't been for any checkups whatsoever during the pregnancy.

Then I was in labor at a hospital, my husband by my side. The doctor mentioned to me that the adopting couple would most likely give us money. I hadn't even considered it. I told the doctor that I wasn't doing it for money and that money hadn't even crossed my mind. My husband, out of curiosity, asked how much we might receive. The doctor said that $10,000 was typical. Just then, as if on cue, a man approached my husband with a check. My husband got up, walked over to him, accepted the check, and came back to me. The amount was $10,552. We couldn't believe it, and we couldn't help thinking how much this could help us get out of some debt.

My husband left to deposit the check. He mentioned that because of the amount, he would have to pay the bank a fee to deposit it into our checking account, but that it wouldn't really be a problem. When he got back, he told me that it was actually the bank that gave extra money to us for depositing a large amount. So the amount that went into our account became $11,007.

Now, all that was left was for the baby to be born. My labor was slow so I was sent to walk for a while. I could feel that the baby wasn't in the proper position. I turned it myself so its head would be down. It wasn't long before he or she was finally born and handed over to the other family.

Later, after I'd left the hospital, I went back because I was curious about the baby's weight. I went inside a dark room. The baby was there, along with a nurse and members of the adopting couple's family. The only light was over the baby's incubator. Everyone there seemed to think that I was just some lower-ranking nurse or janitor-type so they didn't pay attention to me. I asked the nurse about the baby's weight, but she said she didn't know exactly since the baby was taken to be given oxygen and not weighed until later. There had been some problem with the baby's lungs, but it was fine now. There was a black tube still connected to its nose. The nurse told me that she believed the baby weighed 10lbs., 15oz. Quite heavy. I was pleased.

Someone asked something about where the birth mother was. I stayed quiet because I didn't want them to know it was me. But then, one of the men in the room answered something like, "She probably left to go to a crap job somewhere." I thought that was rather rude. From behind him, I said something like, "Yes, I suppose I should be going now." The man looked toward me and realized who I was. He seemed ashamed of himself for the remark.

Then, I saw a man in the back of the room, in the shadows, perk up and look directly at me. I knew at once that he was the new father. I saw him rise and I bolted from the room. I ran for the stairs, and descended three floors, but when I emerged, the man was waiting for me, having taken the elevator down. We both froze and merely stared at each other for a second. Then I ran through a hall and found a wall that formed a hiding place in a corner. From there, I heard the man trying to find me. There was a woman with him now and he was telling her that he was trying to find me just to meet me and talk to me. I saw them enter an elevator.

After hearing what he'd told her, I decided that I'd let him talk to me and walked in front of the elevator as the door was closing. I didn't say anything. I just stood there and let him see me. He looked at me as if I were a ghost. There wasn't time for him to stop the elevator. It started to rise, but I reached out and pressed a button marked "3" that made the elevator return and open.

The next thing I remember is being in his house looking around. It was obvious that he was rich. The house was very nicely decorated and well-furnished. We said things to each other, but I don't remember them. Shortly after that, I woke up.

I was waiting for the man so I could give him a late minimum payment my mother owed him. She had arranged it with me earlier. I don't know if the money was hers or mine. The check I used was mine. I don't know what the consequences of not paying would have been, but I gathered this was a very serious matter and the payment had to be made.

I was a little nervous, but mostly in the way of simply never having met this man before and not knowing what to expect when he arrived. Would I meet him at the front door, pass him the check, and that was all? Or would he expect to come in and sit down and talk about things I had no place talking about? I had no idea.

The doorbell rang. I answered. It was him. He was tall, had thick white hair, and wore a gray suit. I'd guess he was about 60-65 years old. There was a woman behind him, rather chubby with long blonde hair, and I believed I saw others waiting outside. Police officers?

He came in and immediately looked around the place. He didn't even answer when I greeted him. He picked up a large gray stuffed rabbit that was lying on the couch, one of my son's toys. He said, "Is this for me?" or something close to that. I thought he was talking to my son, joking like strangers sometimes do around little kids. I just smiled and took it as a friendly joke.

Then he looked around at other things and asked me if this was all I had for him. He seemed annoyed that everything was in place around the house. I started to get the impression that he had expected everything to be boxed up for the people outside to start loading up their vehicles. Soon I realized that's exactly what he meant! There were police outside to make sure I didn't resist the seizure of the mobile home and everything inside. The woman he brought with him was there to be a witness if I didn't cooperate.

He hadn't expected my mother to have come up with the money. She had a record of non-payment and paying under the minimum acceptable amount when she did send a check.

He was starting to annoy me. He hadn't even asked if I had the money for him. He just assumed that she couldn't pay, and had come prepared to take everything. So I told him that I had a payment for him. When he looked at me, I could tell that this was a total surprise to him. He finally stopped taking a mental inventory of all of my belongings and took a seat on the couch.

I got my checkbook and started writing out the check. I clearly remember it. I don't remember who I made it out to, but I wrote "$327.94" in the amount space and signed it. But before I would give it to him, I wanted to know exactly who he was and how my mother got mixed up with him. He told me he was "a teller," a bank teller, I presumed, and that he had taken a chance on my mother and had given her a lot of money to pay her bills and she was supposed to pay a certain amount back each month, but she hadn't been doing that.

Maybe I should have said something in the way of how things might be hard on her and she really meant to pay him if only she could, but I started putting her down and telling him how irresponsible she was with money. It seems I even offered some examples of her irresponsibility. And the more I criticized her, the more he liked me, the more easily we started getting along. He opened up too and told me some of her past excuses, which I don't remember now, and he started being just really friendly and nice to me. It was the feeling of having something in common: the inconvenience of my mother. We were actually laughing a little with each other over it.

So I started to hand him the check. At this point, I had a stronger impression that it was my money paying him for her. He got up and told me to just mail it whenever I thought about it again. We were sort of friends now and he wasn't going to end the visit by taking my money. Such a change from when he first walked in! Then he said a pleasant goodbye and left.

First part, I was washing my hair in an unfamiliar bathroom. My mother was in there with me and reading a book. I was standing in the tub with some of my clothes on. Actually, it seemed the longer I was standing in the tub, the more clothes I would suddenly be wearing. Well, it took forever for me to wash my hair, but when I was done, my scalp was so clean it felt almost like I was touching my skull. My mother had had to give me the shampoo and conditioner (the same bottles I'm currently using in real life too). I made a mess of water on the floor because there were so many settings on the faucet to make water come out here and there. At one point, my mother had turned off all the lights. There was barely enough light coming through the windows. I told her to turn them back on and she did.

I finished with my hair and walked into the second part of the dream. Everything going on around me was so familiar. I was in an episode of The Incredible Hulk, but it wasn't anything like the real series. The Hulk had a gypsy wife who was all into making potions to heal people. She had long blond "Farrah Fawcett" hair and wore a tall, pointed hat. Her whole outfit was black and pink. She had a sweet, but goofy face, like she was in her own little rose-tinted world most of the time. Well, like I said, all this was very familiar. I knew it was "Drinking Day," and the Hulk's mother intended to take full advantage of it. She stayed drunk. And I knew the wife had gone out to the fields to collect something for her potion-making and would be back soon. I felt like I was watching a re-run for the third time. I left out the front door to get away from the whole scene.

Then I was outside Hogwarts Castle. I remember the ground/floor was bricked, and it was a nice, overcast day. I wasn't totally lost, but I didn't know my way around. I immediately saw Harry, Hermione, and Ron walking towards a building. They were in their robes, but the robes were gray - that kind of gray that has a little blue in it, I don't know what it's called. I stopped them and asked where I might find Severus Snape. I was so nervous that I fumbled the words the first time. It was Ron who stopped to help me, and I remembered to be careful and not call him by name because I wasn't supposed to know who any of them were. He said that he didn't know where Professor Snape was at the moment, but he directed me to his rooms. I almost missed what he said because I was bothered that his hair was too brown, but I thanked him and went to find Snape.

There was no one there when I let myself in. It wasn't a school room, it looked more personal than that, like a living room, and nicely furnished. The floor was carpeted and there was a couch and a large bookcase. Soon after I wandered into a back room, I heard Snape and someone else come in talking. I stayed quiet because I knew I probably shouldn't have come in uninvited in the first place. I would at least wait until the person left to make my presence known.

I heard his guest leave, and then not even a minute later, I heard Snape muttering something almost in a pleading kind of way. I hesitated, but then walked into the living room and saw him on the floor trembling. I had the impression that some invisible evil had come and caused him pain as soon as he was alone. He was lying face-up and holding his head and shoulders off the floor like he was trying to get up. He was holding his hands up and out to the sides like he might reach some invisible support to pull himself up. I knelt at his side and touched his hand to try to stop its shaking. I asked him if he was all right. I don't remember if he answered or not, he just wanted me closer. In seconds, I knew we were about to kiss, and I completely welcomed it.

{I have to pause for a moment to mention something about this part. Normally, people don't look quite as they should in my dreams. Sometimes it'll be someone else entirely, yet I still know them to be who they're supposed to be - like a different actor playing the same part. Snape, however, looked perfect. I'm somewhat of a Rickman fan so I've seen him often enough in movies and pictures and I tell you, Snape in my dream was exactly as he should be, straight from the movies. The look, the rich, thick voice; everything about him was so compelling that even though I knew I was dreaming, I still had to stop for a second and wonder if this wasn't actually him. May sound silly, but it's true.}

The kiss was dreamy (no pun intended). At first, I started to kiss him a little harder and faster than he wanted, but he immediately, and through the subtlest movement of his lips, slowed me down.

When I'm lucid, I take care to notice the feel of things. I felt every detail of the kiss, or kisses I should say. They way our lips felt as they parted before the next gentle kiss was so realistic, and very sensual. Finally, he set a quicker pace and I slipped my tongue into his mouth. He caught and teased my tongue with his teeth. When he let go, he complimented my teeth, which I thought was odd since he was the one who nibbled me. Then he ran a finger down my left temple, and with a slightly disapproving look on his face, he said, "Why so much dark make-up?" I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing and let the moment pass. I was pretty sure he wasn't expecting an answer anyway, but it did make me think because then I felt "fake." He preferred women not wear make-up.

We changed position so that we were both on our sides facing each other. He wrapped his arm over me and began thrusting against me (both of us still fully clothed). I couldn't help but reach down to feel his hardness; he wasn't fully erect yet, but he was getting there fast. We started to kiss again, but he heard something outside and remembered that he had to greet an important Romanian couple that had come to see Hogwarts and what he heard was their arrival. He quickly got up and said something to me like, "You don't mind if we finish this later, do you?" He didn't wait for my answer, he was already heading to another room.

As I got up to follow him, I realized I was wearing a black robe like the students wear. I felt it slide down to cover my legs as if it had been pulled up while we were on the floor. Nothing more than a brief and amusing afterthought really.

Then I finally answered him saying, "Of course not, Severus." I felt like I was taking a risk by calling him by his first name, so I watched him closely for any reaction. He noticed how I was looking at him and asked me if anything was wrong. I told him honestly that I was worried he would "berate me" for calling him "Severus." I don't remember his exact response, but it was very close to, "Not at all, don't worry about such foolish things," and then he motioned for me to help him with something.

He wanted me to help him get something out his door. It was a big, white metal thing shaped like a cone - three straight rods with three rings to make the shape. I held the door open and he brought it outside. I think I carried it the rest of the way and set it nearby a group of people gathered around the Romanian couple. I remember all the men around, except Snape, were in three piece suits. I think they were all getting their picture taken. I felt rather out of place, but since they had all seen me come with Professor Snape, I wasn't worried about anyone asking me to leave. Even so, I stood off to the side and just watched. While I waited, I noticed that Snape was trying to hurry everything along, and I didn't have to wonder why.

That's when another girl showed up. She was very much like me in a way that I can't really describe, and I could tell she was already acquainted with Professor Snape. She asked him what he was doing with another girl. She had read my mind and saw us together. I could read her mind too. I knew that, despite how she was acting, she only wished she was close to Snape; she knew he had no interest in her, yet she acted like she was special to him. He quickly warned her to be quiet around the guests.

Just then, our attentions were turned to an old Volkswagen Beetle trying to free itself from a large and sticky mud puddle. It was struggling to get out, but couldn't. We did nothing but watch. I saw a book with a black cover and white lettering fall off the car and sink into the puddle. Without meaning to, I read the girl's mind and knew that it was a book she had given to Snape as a gift. I almost imagined I had given it to him before I realized I was reading her mind. I also felt how upset she was that it was lost and wanted to stop her from possibly causing a scene. I put a hand to her shoulder and said something like, "It's not that important. Another can always be found." That seemed to settle her.

I don't remember leaving the crowd. The next thing I remember is sitting in a desk chair, like a swivel chair you see in an office, waiting for Snape. As soon as he came into the room, he got on top of me right there in the chair. I thought of suggesting we go to a bed, but I didn't even know if there was a bedroom in the place. Then I felt him entering me very, very slowly. I hadn't even realized we were naked. It felt so damned real. He slid in deeper and deeper. The sensation was amazing. Exquisite penetration. And the look in his eyes... It was like he had completely abandoned all rational thought and was only focused on wanting sex. It was like he wasn't seeing me at all.

When he was all the way inside me, he pushed against the desk to make our chair turn to face directly away from it. We shifted our weight so that the back of the chair would lean against the desk and not move. Then he began slowly rocking his hips.

Even though we had just started our intercourse, I saw that he was sweating. His hair was wet, and when I put my arms around him, I felt that his back was slick with sweat. I didn't understand it. It wasn't hot in the room. The last thing I remember is him standing and reaching to adjust a ceiling vent to cool himself off.

{Then my husband woke me up because he was starting to worry about the length of my nap. Should have locked him out before I went to sleep. ;)}

Then the store became a high school where Mr. R taught. I was a student. It was after class and we were talking - no idea what we were talking about, but I had the idea that we were, ah, rather closer than a teacher and student should be. It was our secret, and it was exciting.

I found him in a hallway later and we briefly talked again. I remember he was wearing blue jeans and a white shirt with very light blue vertical stripes. We were slowly closing in for a kiss. I was disappointed when he only gave me a quick peck, on the lips at least, but I had to remind myself that we were standing in a school hallway after all. We couldn't let anyone catch us.

The next day when I got to school, everyone was fussing over the latest edition of the school newspaper. There was an article about a new rule: No kissing. I figured Mr. R and I must have been seen, but no one approached me about it. I just knew that's what had happened though. I wanted to find Mr. R to find out what he knew, but I couldn't find him anywhere. I was afraid he might have been fired.

Shift of theme here when a gang came into the school and opened fire on everyone and everything. That scenario played out over and over again because I kept getting killed. It was only over when I found a way to get out of the school, which now looked like a mall, without getting shot.

Then it snowed and everyone was happy. The End - at least of any parts that made sense.

As I walked back around the front steps of the building, I started singing a silly song that I was making up on the spot. It went "Venger, Venger, where are you? Your truck is here and the skies aren't blue..." There were a couple more lines to my impromptu song, but I can't remember them. I do remember another student stopping me on the stairs and asking me if our professor was in. When I told him I saw his truck, he seemed a bit nervous, but made it to class.

I was still humming when I took my seat. I can't picture what I was wearing, but I remember it was rather seductive and it wouldn't have bothered me at all if our professor took notice.

Venger's desk was broad and made of dark wood. There were two rows of long black tables where the students sat. Looking towards Venger's desk, I was at the first table in the right row, in the chair along the center aisle. Venger wasn't there yet and the room was abuzz with talk. No one could hear my humming.

Even when Venger finally came in, everyone continued to talk. Class hadn't officially started yet so this was fine, but it was getting louder. So I started singing, rather than humming, as I was being drowned out anyway. I was watching Venger get his papers and books organized as I sang. The tune was something close to Evanescence's "Bring Me To Life," but not quite.

I was surprised at my voice. I was singing beautifully and was hitting some impressive notes. I honestly didn't mean for the professor to hear me -- I didn't think he could over the noise -- but then he looked up at me. The sudden attention was such a shock that I stopped singing and just looked back at him. His eyes were entrancing, so blue and sharp. I couldn't look away. I was mesmerized.

But the spell was broken when two tall, hooded guards came in from a side door, shoving a prisoner in chains in front of them. The prisoner wasn't wearing a shirt and I could see he was quite muscular. The guards forced him to stand on the table to my left and one guard whipped him. I remember thinking that there was no reason for such brutality; the prisoner wasn't being unruly. Anyway, this interruption was obviously something that couldn't wait. The guards needed to know what Venger wanted done with him now.

Before Venger could give them instructions, something unexpected happened. All the students in the room started yelling and throwing chairs and books and such at the guards. They were rioting. So what did I do? I started singing again. I felt separate from the riot, like an invisible observer. I was calmly walking through the chaos of overturned tables and chairs, students fighting and screaming, papers flying all over as I sang a song that was faster and suited to the destruction happening around me. I was supplying a soundtrack only I could hear, it seemed. I found it all very interesting, but then I woke up.

I kept trying to use my special power to make him younger, but it wasn't working on him for some reason. He must have noticed I was looking at him because he started walking my way. I expected him to simply pass by, but then I realized he was looking right at me.

When he got to me, he immediately put his arm around me and started telling me that I was going to be with him from then on. I was going to be his woman and we'd be happy together and that was that. I didn't know how to handle the situation. With the things he was saying, I thought this was either a joke or he'd become the proverbial "dirty old man."

Then, a much older man approached us. He looked to be in his 80's. I don't remember exactly what he said, but it was definitely to the effect that he wanted me when Mr. R was done with me. The old man obviously thought I was some kind of prostitute who especially liked to get with much older men! If looks could kill, the look Mr. R gave him should have killed him on the spot. Those eyes!

The old man quickly left without another word. It was then that I started telling myself that I really liked Mr. R, could easily love him, and wanted to be with him. Even I didn't understand myself why my feelings changed so quickly. I suddenly felt very comfortable with him, even excited to be with him. It was like I was under a spell.

We held hands and walked around the campus for a while, not saying much at all to each other. We just enjoyed being there together; and the more we walked, the more I liked him.

At one point we were separated for some reason. I just remember walking alone, somewhere away from the campus, looking at various distant buildings and antenna towers. There were a lot of those. When I saw Mr. R again, he was wearing a cowboy hat. He was standing near someone's forest-green truck waiting for me. He hadn't seen me yet and I started to walk away, I'm not sure why. Then I decided to go to him because it felt right to. As I was walking towards him, I remember thinking that now that I loved him, he'd probably just leave without me when the day was over and I'd never see him again. I don't remember anything more.

I immediately found a movie starring Simon Templeman (so nice to have you back in my dreams). I was so excited. This wasn't a B movie where he only had a bit part. It was a blockbuster hit that made millions at the box office. I had to get it! I must have missed it in the theaters because I had heard about it, but hadn't seen it yet.

The cover was mostly blood red, and the title, which I can't remember, was done in very gothically styled white lettering. The picture on front and back was very evil-looking, but I can't remember exactly what the picture was. Seems like it was a city ruined by war. Looked awesome, anyway.

There were several different versions of this movie and it was hard to decide which one would be the best buy. Very frustrating since I was in a hurry and didn't have the money to buy them all (though I would have liked to).

I found one DVD that was just a collection of the trailers and extras from the movie. Somehow, I was able to watch a clip right there in the store.

Simon was playing a vampire (Go figure!). I loved how well the make-up was done. He was lying on a stone slab in a dark tomb. He might have been naked, but the camera only showed him to his waist. His hair was really long and his skin was very pale. He was dirty as if his body had been buried at some point. There was a black circular plug in the center of his chest, like the Harkonnen "heart plug" in Dune (1984).

He tried to get up, but was too weak. He had to have blood. He pinched at the center of his chest plug and pulled out a long, thin chain. With that removed, he tried to sit up so his own blood would spill from him and he could drink it again -- he was that desperate for blood. But all that came out was watery gray fluid. Then more came out that was slightly pink.

He said something like, "It's all I have." or "It'll have to do." I can't remember exactly.

After that, the dream changed to something set back in high school. I remember a cousin of mine being there, but it's too vague.

All Saturday evening, Simon had put off an important task. This important task was the reason we were all there that night, but we ended up just talking the night away. [Now, the "me" in the dream knew what that task was, but I, as the dreamer, didn't. It's weird, I know.]

Anyway, the task didn't get done that night like it was supposed to. When we all got up late the next morning, I started arguing with Simon because I had to leave within a few hours. We had to get it done now!

He still wouldn't answer me. He just paced nervously and bit at his fingers.

My part of the job was to bring a certain item, which I pulled out of its case to encourage him. It was a curved shirasaya with a midnight blue and dark red handle. [A Japanese sword. It's strange because I am definitely not one of these people who are into all the Japanese stuff these days.] He was reluctant to take it from me.

It was then that I finally knew what the dream version of me knew: I was to bring Simon the shirasaya to use to behead his father, the Dungeon Master. [Remember the little old man in red from the Dungeons & Dragons cartoon?] Doing this would somehow empower the sword for some purpose. Then Leeta would take the sword and do... something with it. Her part was never clear to me. Maybe I wasn't suppose to know.

Simon finally took the shiny shirasaya and went into another room to get Dungeon Master.

Dungeon Master didn't resist, but I remember him looking at me with such a sad face. It was like he understood why we felt we had to do this, and felt no malice toward us. It was hard to tell if he was going to his death entirely voluntarily. I knew he didn't want to die, and it was worse that it was his own son who was about to kill him. I regretted what was about to happen, but knew it had to be done.

Simon took him down a hallway. He came back a few moments later with a bloody blade. He gave it to Leeta. She looked at it and started to go down the hallway to see the body. I had to physically stop her. She was jumpy enough as it was; she didn't need to see a head severed from its body, all in a pool of blood.

The reason Simon put it off and Leeta was so jumpy was simply because murder is illegal and we didn't want to be caught and sent to jail. I was the least paranoid because I reminded myself that only a couple of people besides the three of us had ever even seen Dungeon Master. I remember thinking that it wasn't as if he had a driver's license or social security card or anything -- in other words, no one knew he existed to know he was gone. So I felt we were in the clear. The only problem I had with the whole thing was that Leeta and I had to leave Simon to dispose of the body himself. We had to be in other places and just couldn't stay to see that part through. With the state of mind Simon had been in, I didn't know if we could trust him not to leave evidence behind. What if someone came looking for some reason? But I decided it was just the paranoia talking. Still, I wished we had all gotten it taken care of the night before.

I remember sitting at a table in a diner the next day. There was a drink in front of me. The walls were glass and I could see that it was very cloudy outside, like it might rain any minute. Leeta was sitting to my right. She wasn't holding up very well. She looked like she could have a breakdown at any time, but I somehow knew she wouldn't. She was strong enough.

I was more interested in how I was dealing with it. I thought I was too calm, too OK with it all. We did what had to be done. No one knew. But it was hard to sit there not knowing what Simon had done with the body. There was no way to get in contact with him for a while. I'd have to wait to hear how he'd handled it.

Some people talked to me -- just quick chats. I couldn't concentrate on what they were saying because I was too busy wondering what I looked like to them. Did I look like someone who had just been involved in some kind of ritual murder? Should I have been acting more casual? Was I already acting too casual? Did I look guilty? It was driving me crazy. Then I woke up.

Later, as in weeks or months (I don't know), I was going to meet with a Bajoran spiritualist. There was a lightning storm, somehow a result of the war in close proximity to the planet, so I had to make my way carefully to her place. A bright bolt struck not far in front of me and I stopped under the roof of a building and watched another bolt just off the side of my shelter. Not the best time for an appointment, but I had to meet with her.

She was an oddity. We met at the same gazebo where Dukat and I had spoken before. She didn't see me at first. She was in the garden beyond the gazebo. She was barefoot, in a silky lavender dress that looked like a nightgown and had pale skin and long, bright red hair. She was dancing, twirling and singing, in that beautiful garden. It had rained recently and she seemed like a child just wanting to be out in it, to be a part of the beauty around her. I found it all a bit strange, but decided to respect her nature-worship. I knew I would need her, rather, Cardassia would need her. She was well-known for her Cardassian sympathies. Not the most popular among her people at the time, considering, but she did have something of a following there on Bajor that was growing all the time.

She finally saw me and came under the gazebo with me. I told her what Dukat had said regarding Cardassian-Bajoran relations and his personal thoughts on the matter - generally that he was willing but unsure. I knew she had listened, but she began speaking of the stream that flowed through the garden instead. It was clogged at one end. The heavy rain from previous storms had pushed brush to the mouth of the stream and it had slowed to a trickle. She wanted me to help her clear the stream. So I did. Soon there were fish swimming in the stream, a white seal swam through too with a few other odd water creatures. All this fascinated me until I realized we were on opposite sides of the widened channel of rushing water.

At first, I saw it as a problem and I wasn't sure what to do. But then, I realized I'd only have to be willing to cross, not mind getting a little wet, and just go for it. I'd make it. The red-head said nothing, just extended her hand to help me across. [Makes sense in a way, thinking back on it. As in Cardassia making the effort and Bajor helping it through.]

Soon we were on the same side. A large group of Bajorans had gathered at a matching gazebo on this side of the water. I sat down and made small talk with some of them. Others were scattered under the big gazebo talking to their own groups of friends and family. At this time, the Dominion War was over. The Dominion had been pushed back into the Gamma quadrant. We had won. Everyone had a lot to talk about. It was no official meeting, but everyone knew Gul Dukat was supposed to make an appearance soon.

He was late. I was starting to worry. These people were looking forward to meeting him. Suddenly, someone said something that got my attention and pointed to the other gazebo. I stood up and saw Dukat standing trying to locate me in the crowd. He was barely recognizable. I expected him to be in uniform, but he was wearing a loose vest and something about him didn't look right. I was too far away to tell what it was though.

I went down the steps of the gazebo. A man up behind me mentioned to someone else that Gul Dukat was the son of Procal Dukat (mentioned in Andrew Robinson's novel, A Stitch In Time, along with Gul Dukat's first name, "Skrain"). If the man had said anything negative, I would have stopped and had a quick word with him about the nature of our meeting, but it seemed he was just passing on information so I walked on. When I was off the steps, I said something quietly to myself like, "I'm coming, Skrain."

It seemed I crossed the stream in one leap and had climbed the steps of the other gazebo in the same manner. I reached Dukat and realized why I had trouble recognizing him. He had suffered burns all over his body. His face was heavily scarred and some hair had been burned away. I remember an odd smell. Probably burnt flesh. Before I could even say hello, he was complaining to me about the Bajoran doctors who insisted they look over his wounds before he could come to the meeting. That must have been why he was late. He pulled back one side of his loose-fitting vest to show me a particularly bad scar.

When we headed for the other side, he was nervous and jumpy. I knew he would never have crossed to the crowd of Bajorans without me to accompany him. That was understandable, but I could also tell that he wasn't entirely mentally stable either. He had trouble walking from his injuries, so I let him lean on me as we crossed the stream to the occupied gazebo.

We sat down at an empty table away from the main crowd. Almost too far away I thought. I wished he hadn't chosen that table. I didn't want it to look like he didn't want to be there - but given his condition, it would have been understandable. I had no idea he had been injured in battle. It made me feel a little guilty about being on beautiful Bajor for all that time.

One by one, everyone gathered around us. Dukat was uneasy. I kept a protective arm around him, he really seemed to need it. This was by no means easy for him. Some of the Bajorans looked just as uneasy, but they all knew that he had just come from fighting in the war in which Bajor had remained neutral. For once, they sort of had something to thank Cardassia for.

At one point, Dukat lost his composure and stood ranting angrily for a few minutes. Thankfully, everyone was very understanding and let him vent. I carefully eased him back under control. Then, a white-haired old man came to sit in front of us. He had something to say. His first few lines had me wondering what he was leading up to. I started to wonder if I should intervene, but I quickly realized he was only stating facts before making his point. He was saying the right things after all. It ended with the old Bajoran extending his hand to shake Dukat's. Dukat didn't know what to think right away, but eventually reached out and shook his hand. After that, everything was going better. Dukat was soon laughing with the people.

Everyone was having a good time until some kind of robot-alien (no idea) showed up. He had somehow gotten to our meeting, saying that he was trading goods on Bajor and just wanted to stop by. Before he made his way to Dukat and me, Dukat leaned to my ear and said, "Trouble-maker." He definitely looked like a trouble-maker. When he approached us, a Bajoran man stepped between us to keep the peace. I told him it wasn't necessary and handled the alien on my own. I raised my voice when I spoke to him, showing that I didn't fear him and hoping to make him uncomfortable with everyone around knowing what we were talking about. He tried to seem innocent at first, but soon tired of it and transformed himself into a bomb (the countdown readout looked like that of the Predator's).

The explosion wasn't very powerful, but it forced everyone off the gazebo. On the ground, I spotted Simon Tarses (from ST:TNG - The Drumhead) hiding nearby with a phaser! Then I caught sight of Admiral Brand (from ST:TNG - The First Duty), also aiming a phaser. I had known Brand was a spy, but of Tarses I said out loud to myself, "Tarses was a spy all along and I never knew! That's a black mark on my record. And I can't have that."

I somehow got hold of a phaser and set it to maximum stun - only because it didn't have a "kill" setting. I managed to get above Tarses and several other operatives without them knowing it and took them all out. There were more exchanges of fire, but I don't really remember anything more.

I went inside through the door from the garage. Then the dream jumped to a point where we were all walking toward the fair after parking.

I was in a bad mood; I didn't want to be there. I let everyone walk ahead of me, except for my father-in-law, who was walking alongside me. He thought that I was moody because I wanted to ride rides, but didn't have any money. He offered to take me on some rides. I told him that I didn't care about the rides, that I usually just look at the pewter jewelry stands anyway. He finally understood that I simply didn't like being out with his wife because she's so annoying and has to have her way no matter how it embarrasses people. He had wanted to stay home also, for those same reasons. So, having mutual feelings about this outing, we decided to stick together and go our own way.

We walked through an abandoned school building. The color of the cement walls was like a mixture of tan and light green, a very pale and sickly color.

I hadn't noticed right away that we were holding hands. I brought my hand up with his to make sure I wasn't imagining it. Then he lifted me up with only the hand that held mine. I was amazed that he was that strong! He lifted me again effortlessly, then let me down slowly so that it seemed I floated to the floor. All I could do was look at him in shocked silence.

We were looking into each other's eyes as he took my other hand, my right, and I realized by the way he held me that he wanted us to dance. I didn't know how to dance, but he knew that already. He wanted to teach me a waltz, it seemed.

I was willing to learn and I was really trying, but I couldn't do it. I would anticipate one direction, and he would move in another.

I was surprised at how patient he was with me. When I made a mistake, we would simply continue rather than start over. I constantly made mistakes, but he never let go, never gave up. He was determined to teach me the right moves.

Eventually, everyone else was finished at the fair and we left.

In a flash, I was standing alone outside the house where I grew up. I was looking up, studying the roof, remembering when this newer roof was put on many years ago. I glanced around the front yard. I saw an old tree swing wound up and tied high up. Then my sister appeared. She asked me where my father-in-law was because she wanted to ask him for help with something.

I thought about it. I knew that what she needed help with would take time, time that he and I could be using for my dance lesson. I knew he was at his house, which was just up the road (where my Grandma's house is in real life). I told her I needed his help with something too and we could race to his house, whoever got there first would ask for his help first.

We both immediately broke into a run for his house. I barely made it there before she did. She lost the race, and promptly disappeared. I went inside and found him in the living room. He seemed to be waiting for me. We resumed the dance lesson.

It was like starting all over again. I had no coordination at all. It was like I had already forgotten what little I had learned earlier. Still, he didn't lose his patience. We sat down on a couch and he picked up a stack of scrap paper from the coffee table and began drawing the steps for me. He handed me the papers and told me to look over the steps and he would be back in a few minutes.

I took the papers from him and watched him leave the room. When I looked at the papers, I couldn't find his drawings. I searched the back and front of each paper in the stack. There were bill receipts, fliers and scraps from junk mail. No drawings.

He came back into the room and asked me if I had memorized the steps. I quickly put the papers down and lied that I had looked them over and was ready to begin again.

After stumbling over each other for a while, it was obvious to both of us that we needed a break. In one last attempt to get a certain move right, we both went off balance. We clutched each other and I went down on my back with him on top of me. We landed comfortably, neither of us cared to get up. We just lay there holding each other. I remember he was wearing a navy blue shirt and he smelled so good. But after lying there for a couple minutes, I remembered that my husband and his mother were somewhere in the house and I didn't want us to be found in that position.

Just as I thought it, my husband walked in. He saw us, but just crossed the room and sat in a chair. My father-in-law and I were both frozen in place, like we were wondering if he actually saw us or if we were invisible as long as we were still.

We decided to get up and try to act casual. It worked. We sat down and started watching TV.

Something was going on with my mother-in-law. She had just been informed that she and her husband had won a weekend tour of NASA and she was looking over the details. No one but she was interested in it. We all rather wished she'd just go away. She kept trying to get her husband involved with the planning, but he didn't feel like bothering right then. I could see he really needed a reason to get away from her right then. I got up and casually walked down the hall. He was soon behind me. We were eager to get back to our "dance lesson."

We looked for a room where we might not be disturbed. We just missed running into his wife somehow and went into a bathroom. Oddly, there were stalls and a line of sinks and mounted towelette dispensers like in a public restroom. But most importantly, there was a lot of floor space.

We took our positions to begin the dance again, but we both knew that it wasn't the dance lesson we were there for. I can't remember exactly how I worded what I said right then, but it was something like, "Let's do something I already know how to do." Undoubtedly a sexual invitation.

He lifted me to him and I wrapped my legs around his waist. Lust took over as he held me as effortlessly as before. We clung together so tightly it was like we were trying to become one. He let me down, turned me around and began pushing himself against my butt. I reached behind me with my left hand and found his swelling cock. I massaged him while simultaneously pleasuring myself with my other hand.

Then I wanted to face him. I turned around and kissed him, but we were beyond mere kisses. It served only as an interruption of the level of arousal we had already reached. But the kiss had distracted me, brought me back to myself. I suddenly regained my sense of morality. I knew we had to stop. I started to pull away when I woke up.

Elric had been injured in a previous skirmish and was recovering in a house we had found and were using as our headquarters. I went to his room, where he was lying down, to report that our scouts had spotted the enemy and that we were probably only hours away from a battle.

Elric muttered something I couldn't make out and made a move to get up, planning to use his sword, Stormbringer, to steady himself as he rose, but he was still in too much pain. He fell back to the bed with a painful sigh.

I quickly stepped closer to his bed. "Elric, you're too weak to fight. Would you let me take Stormbringer into battle, or, if it's more appropriate, ask Stormbringer?" (If you're not familiar with the story, Stormbringer is Elric's powerful, sentient, soul-devouring, chaos-forged rune sword.)

Elric lifted Stormbringer from where it was propped against the bed and brought it on top of himself. He looked at it as if he was unsure he should part with it under any circumstances, but then lifted it for me to take.

I had never touched such a sword before. Reaching for it, I wondered about its heaviness. Taking it, I was amazed by the feel of it. It was not heavy to me at all, it felt like a natural extension of my own arm. Even so, I suddenly felt a little apprehensive - I knew what Stormbringer was capable of. I wasn't Elric. What if the blade turned on me when all our enemies were slain?

It was a chance I had to take. I really didn't have a choice in the matter. Our army was small. We needed Stormbringer and I knew that I was the only one Elric would trust with it. I took it and left our makeshift headquarters.

We were attacked early, or so I thought. A small band of beggars were passing too close to our camp and I assumed these were the first of the enemy horde. We engaged them. I jumped right in the middle of a group of them, confident I could easily take them with the rune sword - and eager to know first hand what it could do to them.

I decapitated seven of them in seconds. I could feel their energy passing into me through the sword. I knew Stormbringer fed Elric the energies of captured souls, but I hadn't known for sure if it would do the same for me. I felt empowered, and I shared Stormbringer's battle-lust.

With another swing of the blade, I sliced the head from another beggar. Then there was only one left. He was unarmed and bleeding from a shallow cut on his neck, begging for his life. He said that they had no dispute with us, that he and all those who were with him were simply passing through and didn't know we were there.

I tried to clear my head and think. It made sense. There had been too few of them and they had been too easy to kill. I thought of sparing his life, but Stormbringer would have his soul too. I tried to fight the sword's will, to hold it back from the kill, but I only managed to make a messy job of what would have been a clean decapitation.

What the beggar had said was true. This was not the battle we were waiting for. I had been too eager to put Stormbringer to use and had ordered an attack on innocents in broad daylight. Bodies were lying all around me and my soldiers stared at me as accusingly as they dared before walking away. But this was not what troubled me at that moment....

It seemed Stormbringer was speaking into my mind, not with words or even images, but with pure knowledge. I suddenly knew why I felt as close to the sword as I imagined Elric did. I was Melnibonéan! Not simply another of that race, I was the origin! All Melnibonéans had descended from me more than ten millennia ago! But how could it be? I had no sense of being so ancient. It all confused me.

I stood there in a daze, dumbfounded by the revelations. A scout returning with information brought me back to myself. An army was approaching, but they were not our enemies. When I saw who it was, I just shook my head and laughed. The "beggar army" we expected to battle turned out to be a clumsy knight, a friend (such as he was) of Elric's and mine, with peasants he had rounded up to join our army, believing they could be trained for battle. Even as I walked up to him, a young boy who was taking a mace from a wagon, dropped it and it rolled down the hill.

I took our friend with me when I went to report to Elric. I wanted to tell Elric of what Stormbringer had revealed to me, but I didn't know how to say it and it wasn't for our bungling friend's ears anyway. I decided I would tell Elric later and I woke up.

John and I both wanted this picture, but for different reasons. I cherished it and wanted to keep it safe with me. John wanted to destroy it. It seemed a painful remembrance for him. Also, he didn't want me to have the only object by which to remember her. I didn't want him to destroy it. Neither of us had this picture yet; it was lost and we were each racing to find it.

The hunt for the picture was a little vague in the dream, but we each ended up in Chicago. Along the way, there were a couple of times when we met and talked. Sometimes our words were nice and sometimes not - typical, I suppose, for being recently divorced.

Once in Chicago, it didn't take me long to find the picture. It was in a desk drawer of an abandoned penthouse apartment. Since John and I had been basically following the same path, had even met each other in the hunt, I knew I had to get away from there fast.

I went up onto the roof. It seems I had entered from there and planned to leave the same way. I hadn't wanted anyone inside to be able to say they saw me. As I walked around a large billboard, I was suddenly surrounded by more than a few thugs...and there was John, a little ways behind them all. He must have followed me and known my escape route.

I had no choice. I handed the picture to a bulky bald thug with an eye patch. He looked like he belonged on a pirate ship. John walked toward him and as the bald thug handed him the picture, I begged John to save it. I could live knowing that it was safe in his possession, just as long as it existed. But as soon as it was in his hands, he broke the glass and fiercely ripped the picture as if he was possessed. After the deed was done, it did seem like an evil madness was immediately flushed from him. Several of his thugs simply vanished. John and a few remaining men calmly walked away without a word, leaving me alone on a quiet rooftop.

Later, as I was leaving Chicago, I noticed a couple of smoke clouds in the distance. There were buildings burning. I went home.

At home, I learned that my Aunt Wendy had gone mad and her four-year-old little girl was placed in the care of foster parents in Chicago. Of course, this only made her condition worse. Then I knew she was responsible for the burning buildings I had seen. It was all over the news, but no one knew who it was.

Wendy had five bombs and was bombing the buildings she thought the foster parents were staying in. She didn't seem to give any thought to the fact that she'd be killing her daughter too. She was beyond caring in her madness.

I rushed back to Chicago and moved the foster family from the latest safe house to another. Hours later, we saw from a window that the building we left was now burning rubble. People were searching the debris for any salvageable belongings.

The little girl was in another room coloring when I checked on her. She didn't seem to notice me, but that was no surprise. She usually had a blank look on her face as if nothing that was happening around her was real. The main thing I remember about her was her hair. What there was of it was light blonde. She was mostly bald - there were only patches of thin hair scattered over her scalp. I couldn't imagine what she'd been through.

Soon, we were discovered again and had to make a quick move to another safe house. I had found the fourth bomb and got us all out of the building before it exploded. Now, there was only one bomb left of Wendy's five. Four buildings had been destroyed and we had no idea how she was finding us. This next safe house was in an old abandoned building, but we worked to make a couple rooms livable. With one more bomb to go, we didn't bother unpacking in case we had to flee.

Some time later, I woke up from a nap in our new safe house and walked into what we had made into a living room. Everyone was sitting quietly. I looked around and saw Wendy sitting in a corner of the room. She said that this time she was making sure none of us escaped. She would stay in the room and die in the explosion just like the rest of us.

Overconfident in her plan, she told us that the last bomb was in a restroom on the top floor. The stairs were cut off and there was no elevator to the top - the elevator shaft was empty save for the belt that had helped carry it.

Somehow, I caused enough of a distraction to slip out of the room. I ran to the elevator shaft and pulled myself up to the top floor with the belt. A restroom was just opposite the elevator. I crashed through the doors and saw a shelf piled up with coats that were too new and clean to have been in the run-down restroom for long. I threw the coats on the floor and found the bomb.

It was in a zipped notebook case. I hurriedly unzipped it and unfolded it to find the control panel. I hoped I'd be able to turn it off or at least reset the timer until a bomb squad could arrive. Forty-six seconds remained! Not near enough time to get back down to everyone and get them out and clear of the building. I pushed any button with a label that sounded like it might give me more time. Michael Knight drove by outside in K.I.T.T. and I thought he had come to help, but I guess he was just passing through. I never saw him again after that.

I finally managed to give myself a little over nine more minutes. I didn't even know how I'd accomplished that. As I started back down the elevator shaft, I woke up.

I was sitting in a theater watching what was suppose to be the latest and final Star Trek: The Next Generation movie. Chris was with me, and every now and then I would glance at him and he would look like Simon Templeman.

At the end of the movie, Patrick Stewart was to go on stage and give a little speech to the audience about this final movie and how the cast and crew have always appreciated the fans and such. However, this movie was entirely about vampires. And when it was time for Stewart's speech, he appeared on the screen live via satellite dressed as Captain Picard.

Now, my perspective changed and I saw everything as if I was with Stewart, seeing things the people in the theater couldn't see. He was driving across the desert towards the theater in a vehicle worthy of Mad Max. The entire frame was painted yellow; there were no seats, doors, or coverings of any kind and a large, razor-sharp metal blade was mounted at the very front. It was built to be driven while standing and could also be driven by remote control. This vehicle was a moving weapon for decapitating vampires.

A camera was mounted to a part of the frame next to the steering wheel. It was angled to show the driver and nothing else. It was from here that Stewart gave his speech as if he was just standing outside somewhere - there was no roof - and he didn't have to pay close attention to his driving because he was in open desert.

After he finished his speech, his intentions became clear to me. I now realized that nearly everyone in the theater was a vampire and Patrick Stewart planned to kill them all. He used his speech to give himself time to get his killing machine to the theater entrance, which was also the only exit. One trap door with steps leading underground.

Stewart arrived at the theater and I used the remote control to maneuver the axe-on-wheels into place at the top of the steps. I didn't know why I was helping him. I didn't want him to kill the vampires. I didn't want to help any more; I handed over control to someone else who would actually use it as the weapon it was.

With the movie and speech over, everyone soon headed to the exit above. The first vampire to approach the door was a young-looking woman in a pink shirt. The axe shot forward and hit her in the chest, missing its mark, but it knocked her back down inside and soon enough the killing machine was down in the area of the theater decapitating vampires left and right.

I was bent looking down into the carnage when Armand ran up to me from my left. He hadn't been below. Another vampire that had come with him immediately went down into the theater.

"What's going on here?" Armand yelled.

I straightened and gestured running my right index finger across my neck from one side then to the other. He knew immediately what I meant.

He circled around me and toward the trap door, never taking his angry eyes from me. I realized he believed this was my doing.

"It wasn't my idea," I told him.

"I thought you were a participant in this."

"No, not me." I couldn't make up my mind if I was lying or not. I had helped position the weapon for it's first run. I realized that I couldn't bear it if he thought badly of me.

The anger left his face and he took my hand and we went down the stairs. We got to the door of the theater and I couldn't go any farther. He went on in to try to save whom he could. I went back to the surface.

I don't know how long I stood there. I seemed to phase out for what felt like only a second or two. When I was myself again, it was all over. I looked down through the door and saw a few severed heads. I went down.

To my surprise, the theater had been remodeled! It looked as though many years had passed. The door now led into a small restaurant and towards the back was a clothing store. There was a large window in the restaurant area that somehow let good light through even though it was underground. Three circular tables with nice white tablecloths and decorated with candles and slender white vases were in one evenly spaced row.

It was baffling. I took uncertain steps forward and numbly stared down at a table. I said Armand's name aloud to myself, like I was trying to call him back through all the time and change. I hadn't at all expected any answer to my call, but then out of the corner of my eye I saw a man turn in my direction. He had been standing with another man at the table nearest the clothing store, but I had paid no attention to either of them.

It was Armand!

He quickly walked to me while I was only able to take a couple uneasy steps toward him. I was so confused, but nonetheless glad to see him. We embraced. I felt his left leg move between my legs. I parted my legs for him and he rubbed his thigh between them, putting a nice pressure on my clit. I was so instantly aroused that I could no longer stand. We fell to the floor together, never letting go of each other. I was on my back with him over me.

"That felt wonderful," I managed to say. He then helped me up and we sat at the table nearest the window. He took the chair closest to the window and turned it away from the room so he sat facing the light. I stared at him for a moment as he gazed out the window, then I spoke.

"I have to ask you about something."

Armand cut a sideways glance at me as if he didn't wish to be bothered with any question I would ask. But I had to know.

"Are you sure Chris is dead?"

He hesitated. "Yes," he finally answered.

"You saw his severed head?"

"No."

"Then you saw his headless body?"

"No."

"Then how can you be sure?"

"I'm sure."

I didn't question him further. I remember looking at the cover of a Marilyn Manson CD that had belonged to Chris. Chris had been a vampire and I had never known. I wondered how old he had been.

Armand rose from his chair and offered his hand. As we were leaving the restaurant he told me that he and the remaining vampires in the city would soon be moving on, within a year or so.

I stopped him. "Please let me come with you," I pleaded. "There's nothing left for me here. Take me with you!"

He looked at me lovingly. "I will," he said, and we walked up into the city.

{Ready for a stupid ending to a cool dream? *hangs head in shame*}

The sky was overcast and the air was cool. We stopped where a man was selling flowers on the side of the street. I suddenly noticed I was itching around my ankles. I pulled up the ends of my blue jeans and saw what looked like pimples covering the bottoms of my legs. They all had a light green-ish tint. It looked disgusting. The vendor at the flower stand said it might be body lice. It sounded crazy to me, I had never had body lice. Armand said he knew where he could take me to find out for sure. We started down the street and I woke up.

{Can we say, "lousy ending!"}

Then I was seeing through Goliath's eyes. He walked through the police station towards Elisa's office. No one seemed to notice him.

He entered Elisa's office and closed the door. Elisa stood up behind her desk. Goliath calmly walked to the front of her desk and, never saying a word, put his hands together to make one giant fist. He swung his powerful arms to the left and shattered a large window. Next, he swung right and down to smash her desk in half. On the third pass, he knocked Elisa right out of the broken window.

I, "inside" Goliath, put my head out the window to watch Elisa fall. I was enjoying the look of utter shock in her eyes. I had a little smile in my mind just knowing she knew that Goliath had done this and wouldn't save her. There was no one to catch her this time.

She screamed all the way down, until she abruptly stopped when she hit. It looked more like she landed on a lower roof of the building instead of the pavement. It didn't matter. She was dead. I stood up and considered which way I would exit the building, then I woke up.

On the way home, we were in a wreck. We weren't even sure how it happened. Chris just seemed to lose control for no reason. We weren't hurt, just a little bruised.

The next night, we were travelling in Manhattan in a helicopter. Chris was flying it and Braedon was with us, in the back seat. Suddenly, the helicopter caught fire and started falling in a nose-dive towards the city below. Chris was unconscious so I took the controls and somehow managed to slow our descent. I landed in the top of a tree. Then, I lost consciousness.

I awoke to police and rescue teams in their helicopter working to get us out of ours. They had already gotten Chris out when I came to. They took Braedon next. When Braedon was safely out, our helicopter began to wobble from side to side in the treetop. A black policewoman helped to steady it then helped me climb out.

When I was finally able to go home, Chris and I talked about everything that had happened. He figured it couldn't be simple bad luck.

At this part of the dream, I saw images of a man, a friend of ours, who had recently been elected in Manhattan - to what position I don't remember. Just for the story, I'll call him Fred. Chris and I had helped him during his election campaign. We truly believed he would be a great asset to the city. We thought if anyone could help us, he could. So Chris went to see him.

I don't know if Chris actually got to speak to Fred, but when he came back he believed that the mayor, a woman, had ordered Fred to have him killed. Then Chris told me that Goliath had a part in it as well. Fred was somehow able to hire Goliath as the assassin!

I couldn't believe it! I was friends with Goliath and it just seemed impossible that he could be persuaded to do such a thing. It was true that since I had married Chris, I hadn't seen much of Goliath. We had lost touch and gone our separate ways. Chris told me it might help if I went and had a talk with Goliath. I agreed and left at sunset to find him.

The last thing I remember before I awoke is looking up at the clock tower from across a park, wondering what I would say to him.

It happened so fast that I didn't even get a look at the shooter, who immediately ran away. I went to the woman and it was my sister, and she was still alive! Another person ran up to us to see what had happened. I knew then that I would have to take my sister to a hospital. If word got out that I did nothing, I knew I'd be in trouble.

I lifted her onto my back and walked to the nearest hospital. In the main hallway, I saw a nurse and yelled to her that I had a gunshot victim who had been hit ten or twelve times in the chest.

I could see that the hospital was overcrowded, there were people waiting in the hallway and at the door. The nurse told me that there was no room for any more people and no doctor available at the moment. She told me to lay her down in the corner of the hallway and wait.

I lowered my sister to the floor. She was so limp that I thought she was dead already. I knew if she wasn't, she would be soon. Then she opened her eyes and weakly pointed to her chest with a worried look on her face and said "boo-boo" the way my son does. It wasn't his voice, but she said it in the same pitiful way. It made me feel really sad for her. But then I remembered what kind of person she was and was able to distance myself from caring about what happened to her. I left her there, on the floor, in the hallway of the hospital and went home.

Later, I was with my mother and a few other people when we heard news that my sister had survived. A doctor had been able to get to her in time. I didn't dare show it, but I had hoped I had seen the last of her. She had been sent home and told to rest and not move around much.

Soon after that, I was somewhere else with my mother and some more people when someone came and told us that my sister was dead. She had ignored the doctor's orders and gone out somewhere and had a "stupid accident". It seems she fell and hit her chest where she had been shot. Whatever happened, it was enough to kill her.

I remember thinking that the person who brought us this news could be wrong. I stopped and reached out with my mind to confirm it. It was true. She was dead. I felt relief, like a burden had been lifted. And life went on in peace.

I remember being backstage at a Doors concert. After two songs, Morrison left the stage. The crowds screamed for more so he went back out for one more song. I think I left as he started that song.

Next, I was in a car and I think my sister was driving. It was a cloudy day and we were following my mother who was driving a black carriage - just like an old horse-drawn carriage, but without the horse. Mother had lost control and flipped it on the side of the road. We stopped and ran to her to see if she was ok. The carriage was on its side and mother was just standing there, too calm, not saying anything. I was surprised she wasn't hurt at all.

The scene changed again and I heard an odd crunch that reminded me of bones breaking. I realized then that I was in the back seat of a car with Jim Morrison. He had been arm wrestling with a guy in the front passenger seat, whose name was also Jim. The crunch I heard was Morrison breaking Jim's right hand. But then suddenly, I was the one with the broken hand. I told Morrison that I wanted to get to a hospital, but he didn't want to take me. The driver then told me that he'd seen people break their hands like this before and they hadn't needed to have it seen about. He said it would heal on its own. So I went around trying not to use that hand and keep it straight and still. I was worried about the jagged bones inside cutting blood vessels.

When we stopped, I met up with my sister. I don't know how the subject came up, but she told me that our mother had died back in 1999. I asked her why I wasn't told and she said that she simply hadn't cared for me to know. I couldn't believe it, but somehow I knew she was telling the truth. She told me she had the wake and funeral on tape so I could watch it. She found the tape and put it in a VCR. I remember seeing my mother in a black coffin at her wake then the funeral cut in right behind that.

I was so distraught that I forgot about keeping my hand still. After a while I noticed that there were patches of red under my skin and my hand was numb. I went to a hospital right away and the doctor told me that nine blood vessels had been severed and I would need to have an operation. As the operation started, I woke up.