But then, it was suddenly Vergil who had been sliced in half. He was cut horizontally at his waist, and his guts from his top half had spilled out, except for his heart, which was still in place and split vertically in two. I skewered one half of his heart, brought it out of the body cavity, and ate it. The flavor was disappointingly weak. I left.

Later, when I returned to eat the other half of Vergil's heart, I discovered his body had been moved. I figured someone had thrown it away. Sure enough, I found it inside a hamper that was full of trash and clothes. I pulled the other half of his heart out (with my hand, I believe), and ate it, too.

Then, I was away from the labs, strolling through a quaint, quiet town. I looked up at the sky when I began to notice that the daylight looked odd. There was a mass of brightly illuminated clouds in front of the sun. There seemed to be faint streaks of green and pink and yellow in the clouds. I noticed the intricate pattern of lightning that hung above like connected spider webs. It was like many tiny, thin branches of lightning had frozen in place. Then, I noticed that the outermost edges were fading toward the main lightning bolt. It was the strangest thing I had ever seen, and I was awestruck by it.

As I stood there watching, a man in a red t-shirt, jeans, and black leather jacket walked up and stood a few feet to my right, watching also. He sat down in a chair and said, "Here it comes." I suddenly remembered that it was when all the strange lightning dissolved down to the main bolt, that the bolt itself finally disappeared and the deadly, body-crushing thunder would come.

I remembered also that my cousin had taken my young son to the nearby park for a walk. I knew my son was by nature scared of loud noises. I knew the thunder (only seconds away now) would scare him more than anything in his life. And as small as he was, I knew there was a chance it would kill him. I hoped there was something my cousin could do to help him through it. I felt horrible that I couldn't find him in time to comfort and protect him. I wished that my cousin could put her hands over his as extra protection for his ears, but I knew she wouldn't be able to help putting her hands over her own ears.

I was so scared for him as I heard the pre-thunder electrical crackle and hum. Any second, thunder that sounded like 30 airliners hovering right over you at once would explode into the air. I crouched, covering my ears as tightly as I could and hoping that my son and cousin would survive and not be deaf.

V.D. and his friends came in right behind us. They were shocked to see me there, but there was no time to do anything about it at the moment. All of us, except one, went inside the fault, I was last in. The one who stayed outside was a big black guy. His job was to act like he was security for the restaurant, unattached to any gang, and tell any rivals who burst in that he hadn't seen anyone enter the room.

Before I could shut the vault door behind us, rival gang members, the "SWAT team," came in. The others in the vault with me told me not to touch the door because they might see it move. But I reached out and shut it anyway. Luckily, it wasn't noticed.

After the danger was gone and we had climbed out of the hiding space, I looked back at the vault door and mentioned that I had seen one just like it in another restaurant, except that one had a bigger door with a combination lock.

V.D., apparently knowing that only one other such vault existed — and that it belonged to his rival, "The Lady" — asked me, "Why did you lie?"

I remembered then that one of his friends had asked me if I knew, or was associated with, The Lady. I had told him "no" at the time because I didn't know who he was talking about. Then, thinking back to my old crowd at the other restaurant, I remembered an old woman who was always around, but I had never known her name.

"I didn't know who 'The Lady' was," I told V.D.

Then, the big black guy held his hand out to me. I thought I was going to be led out the back and beaten or killed, maybe both, but he was only getting me to stand because he knew what V.D. was about to order. V.D. then told me to give the big guy my I.D. He had a scanner on his belt that would show if I was part of any certain gang. I gave him my I.D. and I checked out — just like I knew I would.

I remembered that I had a copy of The Lady's schedule in my wallet. I gave it to V.D. so he would trust me a little bit. And I told him that I had been around her place a lot, so I could try to answer any questions they had about her.

He explained to me that The Lady was planning to turn the ice from some local skating rink into oil within two years. I had a mental image of skaters on the ice, the ice becoming oil, and the skaters drowning in a sea of oil that flooded the whole town. He wanted to stop her. And I was a part of his gang now.

The last thing I remember is looking at the strange things that were protruding from the top of the big guy's back and through his shirt. Seems I called them "dragon scales." There were five or six of these things. They looked like huge thumbnails made of flattened fish bones. I wanted a better look, but V.D. told me he never takes his shirt off for anyone to get a better look. He said it as if I was lucky I was getting to see them at all. And that's all I remember.

Then, we were getting into bed to take a nap. Just after she fell asleep, a strange woman got in the bed behind her. I got on top of the stranger to hold her down in case she meant to try to harm us. I asked her what she was doing there and she told me that she had come to make sure nothing happened to Deanna's eyes. Then Deanna woke up and said that everything looked different to her - something had happened to her eyes. She said that she could see my aura. She told me that when I felt calm and in control of a situation, my aura was blue; and when I felt threatened or alarmed, it became yellow. I said something like, "Oh, great. Now, not only are you telepathic, but you can see auras."

She noticed something in the corner of the room and swore that it hadn't been there before. It was a small, blue, solid yet transparent carving of a pipe. I put the pipe in my mouth and my vision changed. It was like looking through 3-D glasses. I curiously looked at various things, absently chewing on the end of the pipe. It felt like it was carved from hard wax.

When I took the pipe out of my mouth, I wasn't with Deanna in the bedroom anymore. I was walking through stone corridors lit by natural light. I saw an old friend from school, H.W., and we stopped to chat. She said she was researching the creatures of Wonderland, but was having trouble finding them. Then she left, and I immediately saw Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum skipping arm-in-arm toward me. I hadn't believed I was actually in Wonderland until then.

Suddenly, I was at my maternal grandma's house, walking toward the hill that rose to the top of her storm pit. I saw Andrew Robinson (who played "Garak" on ST:DS9) on top of the storm pit, walking slowly as if in thought. He looked twenty years younger and was wearing a tan three-piece tweed suit. I remembered that he had mysteriously gone missing several years before.

I walked up the hill, and when he noticed me, he told me he was looking for the Twilight Zone. I couldn't believe he didn't realize that was already in the Twilight Zone. I told him that I had just been in Wonderland, which was in the Twilight Zone. He was confused as I tried to explain that his mind must have been affected by the place, that he too readily accepted his surroundings as reality. The strangeness of the Twilight Zone had somehow quickly become the norm to him. I pointed to the road where there were floating 18-wheelers. I think I also pointed to some birds that were flying upside-down. He admitted that he hadn't noticed these things before. He couldn't believe that he had been in the Twilight Zone the whole time without realizing it. He began looking around as if seeing the place for the first time. He was so happy to know the truth that he took off his jacket, told me to take mine off and throw it on top of my grandmother's roof (which I did), and then kissed me.

But then he became suspicious. He thought I was trying to deceive him. He accused me of trying to keep from finding the Twilight Zone by telling him he was already there. So, to further convince him that I was telling the truth, I morphed into Trinity from The Matrix. He was very shocked and began running away, but, as Trinity, I could run faster than he and soon caught up with him. Finally, he seemed to be getting a grip on his situation.

We decided that we should leave the T.Z., or risk going mad within it. He packed his bags and we went to a travel agency to get a flight out of the T.Z. — our thinking was that maybe if we "played by the rules," the beings of the T.Z. wouldn't notice that we were trying to escape it.

He went in to talk with the travel agent at the front desk while I got his bags from the car. There was no one else in the place other than the travel agent, and the travel agent was Arnold Schwarzenegger. When I went inside, I stopped and listened to their conversation. I knew immediately that Schwarzenegger was one of the beings of the Twilight Zone, and by the questions he was asking Robinson — and the answers Robinson was fumbling through — I knew we were about to be in trouble. I wished then that he had the guile of his character, Garak.

I went up to the counter and pulled Robinson away, telling Schwarzenegger that I had to talk to my friend for a moment. As soon as we were out of sight, I pulled him through a door that led behind Schwarzenegger's desk. When I looked to make sure that we weren't observed, Schwarzenegger had turned around and we were looking each other square in the eye. Both he and I froze. Then, I grabbed Robinson and we bolted through the building.

There were doors everywhere, with no indication as to where they led, but I knew they opened to other worlds/dimensions. It was just a matter of finding the door that led to our Earth's cosmic plane. I found a door that led to what looked like a hotel room. I doubted it was the right door, but at least we could rest there for a while before trying again. I went out to look for the right door again on my own. Still no luck. The last thing I remember is going back to the hotel room and being annoyed that Robinson had begun unpacking. I wasn't intending for us to stay there even for an hour. I wanted to get us home.

I waited the five seconds, and then I snuck around to hear what they were saying. The doctor was explaining that their father, who had been poisoned, would die unless he had the antidote that had been contained within a single flower that I had eaten. He was suggesting that I be burnt, and that my ashes be mixed into a drink that would cure the king.

Well, I wasn't going to hang around with these three plotting to kill me. I ran, but Dante had seen me. I made it to the well and powered up Dante's secret transporter. It would take twenty seconds to charge before I would be transported off the planet. During the silent countdown, an image flashed in my mind: an elaborately embroidered "D" in gold on crimson cloth. I looked up to see Dante standing about twenty feet away from me. He just stood there, staring at me. He looked so regal in the firelight.

I said, "I'm sorry, Dante. It's too late," meaning that I couldn't stop the transporter and wouldn't if I could. The dream ended as the transporter activated.

So, we drove downtown to the Fox News studio and he presented his premise to one of the producers on the first floor. They wanted him instantly and arranged for him to be interviewed sometime in the second half of the show.

We waited patiently for his time on air. He was supposed to be sitting in a certain chair with a black curtain behind him. The scheduled time was approaching and he still hadn't taken his seat. When there was less than a minute left before he was to be on, he told me he couldn't do it. He said that he hadn't considered how "vulgar" it would be toward Valerie Plame, and how many people would be ruined and embarrassed.

Plame happened to be appearing on the Factor that night, too. I remember seeing O'Reilly warning her before the show that something could be said on his show that night that may upset her. But she was very understanding and willing to listen. She went on before my husband, and I remember that there were a few minutes between what was filmed in the studio, and what everyone saw on their tv screens at home. During Plame's interview, O'Reilly said a few things, jokingly, that he shouldn't have. He laughed and told his editor to cut that because he sounded like a pervert. I thought that was funny because I knew what he meant - he was referring to all the times bad people tried to make some hosts' harmless jokes sound like they were being horribly indecent.

Anyway, on a small tv screen I soon saw O'Reilly introduce my husband and I told him he should at least be in the right place at the right time, even if he's changed his mind about revealing his revelation. (We were alone in a room on the first floor, while the show was being aired many floors above.) But he didn't want to get in his seat for the interview. I couldn't believe he was doing this to Bill O'Reilly, one of my favorite tv personalities. I knew Mr. O. would be angry.

Sure enough, O'Reilly came down during a commercial break to see what happened. He and my husband started arguing at first, and Mr. O. threatened to make my husband's story his "Most Ridiculous Item of the Day." But Mr. O. got him to explain his story to him so he could at least recount it to the audience if he didn't want to go on air. So, that's the way it went on. He recounted the story in his own words, and then ended the show by singing a funny song about Libby and Plame. I don't remember the words, but I remember it being humorous and clever.

Then we left the building. I walked slowly because I wanted to get a look at Mr. O. as he was leaving. I was too nervous to ask for an autograph. I realized Mr. O. was walking not too far behind me, toward a white Chevrolet Caprice wagon with a camper hooked to it and a rack of expensive clothes beside it. The first jacket on the rack was emerald green. It looked dreadful. I almost touched it as I walked by it, but I didn't want Mr. O. to see me touching his things. He got in his car and left, and my husband and I were just sort of standing in the parking lot thinking where we wanted to go from there.

That was more than I could bare and I started crying. I didn't care what the other people thought of me at that point. I tried to knock the knife out of his hand, but he had anticipated that and had tightened his grip. I tried using the knife to bend his wrist at a painful angle so he would let go, but that didn't work either.

Finally, I grabbed the base of the knife and ran my fist upwards to collect all the mayonnaise on my hand. I slicked his arm with mayonnaise, and then started throwing gobs of it in his hair and on his face and clothes. He finally said he was sorry for his insults, but I didn't care for his apology. I knew he wouldn't get up and hit me or anything, but in the state I was in, I was ready for that too. Weaker or not, if he wanted revenge for being covered in mayonnaise, I knew I would fight back as hard as I could.

Then, she said to me, "Don't just stand there with your mouth open, get to work."

I said to her, "Simon's been busy all day helping out around here!"

And honestly, he was due a break from all the work he'd done. He approached her and informed her that he was going to stop for the day and play an on-line game. WarCraft, or something - I remember the word "war" in the title. I was proud of him for standing up to her, and it made me feel that being married to him might not be so bad after all.

While he played his game, I went out to take care of some paperwork at a lawyer's office. There was some kind of proof of something that the lawyer needed to see. I had to rummage through a stack of papers, cards, and photos to find it. I came across a card, like a large Hallmark card, that Brian had sent to Simon years before. Inside was a love note and a marriage proposal with some kind of agreement contract attached. It stated that if Simon agreed to marry him, they would have to remain married until the year 2032. It was that set date that was causing the finalization to take so long. The date could be waived, but there was extra paperwork and waiting periods involved.

I had a flashback to the moment when Simon first showed me the card. We were in a bedroom with one other person. When that person left, he said he trusted me enough to show me the card. Like I was the only person in the family who would understand their desire to marry. And I was very understanding. I was happy for them. Actually, I didn't care one way or the other, but I was happy that he felt comfortable sharing it with me.

Shortly after I got back to the house, two people were at the door - a married couple who were Simon's friends. The man was morbidly obese and had a mustache. He wore a red t-shirt, jeans, and a white and blue cap. His name was Mike. His wife was very short and fat. Mike introduced her, but I chose to call her "Shorty" instead. (I tripped over once because she was so short.) I was being intentionally rude because I didn't want these people at the house. I was happy when I finally saw Simon coming from the other side of the house. He looked nice, too. He was wearing a black turtleneck and a long black coat. I happily dumped his friends on him and retreated to the dining room.

Unexpectedly, Brian and some other people were waiting for me so they could fill me in on some more things they felt I should know about Simon before I married him. Keep in mind the decision to marry him was not mine. I was informed that he used more than one last name. He went by "Simon Play" and "Simon Hand". (I think it was "Hand" anyway.) Brian told me that Simon was pretty much broke and had to take a cab to work every day until Brian gave him his customized orange and white Mustang, which he said Simon could keep even after the divorce.

Suddenly, I saw a red flower pot on the table in front of me. It was half-full of painted flat rocks. The only other person in the room now was Simon's soon-to-be ex-wife (an Asian woman, but not Rosalind Chao, who is Templeman's wife in real life - and I don't know what happened to the Brian storyline.) She explained that the painted rocks represented special memories of her, Simon, and their child. She told me that she had removed the rocks relating to her and their child, and that I could start adding painted rocks for Simon and myself after I married him. She did this as if she was happy to give Simon to me.

Skip ahead. Simon and I were living in London. We were engaged, but not yet married. I was searching for something, I don't know what, in a bell tower of a ruined cathedral. I was desperate to find whatever I was looking for. And I didn't want Simon to find me there. I knew that he and another man were looking me, and they were close.

I looked up at the ball hanging from a thick chain inside a rusted, iron bell. I felt certain that what I was looking for was attached to the ball. Somehow, I caused vibration with my voice to break the ball from the chain. The ball crashed down and embedded in the floor's broken wood planks. I knew I had to hurry before Simon and the other man found me - I knew they had heard the crash. I searched all over the ball, but there was nothing there.

I was on my knees pulling at broken planks and pushing against the ball when they entered. I gave up then and there. I knew I couldn't get away from them. I felt like the whole thing had been a set up. Like Simon would benefit somehow from marrying me and I couldn't get away. Then I woke up.

One day, he asked me out to dinner just to do something special to show his appreciation for all my help at school. I knew it was just an innocent outing, but I was going to pretend, just for myself, that it was more like a date since I knew it was the closest thing to a date I would ever have with him. So, you can imagine my utter disappointment when I discovered that he was taking me and Sam Manson (of Danny Phantom) out together. I didn't show it, but I was crushed.

Things didn't get better from there. The night was a disaster. For some reason, we let Sam drag us all over town. We all ended up shopping in various stores before losing each other in a Goth club that Sam literally ran into. We never got around to having dinner.

When the night was over, there was a lot of confusion over how Sam and I were getting home, and I felt that Mr. O. was acting more concerned about Sam than for me. I was jealous, but refused to show it. She ruined the night, and I just wanted to get home and forget the whole thing.

I remember driving home, and I think Sam then got into the driver's seat and went home herself. But I had the feeling that the car didn't belong to any of us. I had the feeling that she stole it so we could get home. I remember getting something out of the back seat and she turned and smiled at me from the driver's seat. It was one of those "I can't believe we got away with (something)" kind of smiles.

I have no idea what happened to Mr. O. He had probably left us both to fend for ourselves after such a terrible night.

The beginning surroundings were similar to the catacombs and Turel's pit under Avernus Cathedral in Legacy of Kain: Defiance. There were large rooms with toilets lined up around the walls, and above the floors floated a green mist with occasional shimmering pockets of blue and white.

I was told that it was my job to clean all the toilets, but I was soon distracted watching Raziel wander around the place trying to find a way out. Somehow I knew, as he did, that the main bad guy of the dream was tracking him. He had to keep on the move, yet avoid the many traps of the catacombs. But soon Raziel did get caught in a trap, and was transported to some faraway place, presumably as a prisoner.

Then I was in a bedroom with a man who looked like Patrick Stewart. (I'll call him "Mr. S.") We were sitting on the bed, looking through a Book of the Dead to find a benevolent spirit that I could summon to help me save Raziel. We found an entry about a ghost named "Heather", who was a friend of Raziel's. But before we could read how to summon her, I began feeling weak, fatigued. I lay back on the bed to rest.

Mr. S. left the room to find something for me - something to eat or drink, I think. When he returned, there was a portal in the bedroom (like the one in Avernus in LOK:D), and he walked into it, just out of curiosity. I raised my head in alarm, it was all I could do. I hoped he had the sense to immediately come back through. He did, a little shaken, but otherwise OK. I was worried about how he would react to the accidental trip because I knew he had never seen such a thing before.

He stood in stunned silence. I described Turel's pit and asked if that was where the portal had taken him. He said it was, and I rested my head again, satisfied to have that confirmed. Suddenly, a ghost came through the portal. It was Heather. We spoke with her, and she admitted that she did know Raziel and would help me.

Then I felt weaker. I couldn't move. I knew it was an attack by our enemy - the one who had taken Raziel. All my energy was draining fast. It was difficult to draw breath. I expected to die. I was beginning to accept it. All that was left for me to do was to think back on all the good things in my life. And I soon realized that the more I thought of past joys, the better I felt. I knew then that I had discovered the key to surviving the attack. I concentrated on every good moment I could think of. I felt my health improving, but it wasn't enough. I felt that my last resort was to pray to God. (In real life, I'm not religious.) I began praising Him, and felt the spell lift and my energy return. I sat up and saw that Heather was affected too, and she was fading. I told her how to fight it, and soon she was well. We decided that we couldn't waste any time. We had to find and destroy our mysterious enemy and save Raziel before we were attacked again.

The next segment changed things a bit. I was playing as Raziel with a PS2 controller. He had made it to the room where the end boss was and it was Senator Palpatine (Star Wars E1 TPM). Vampire hunters from LOK:D were winning their fight against Raziel. He was near death; there were just too many of them to fight. But at the last possible second, I paused the game. Then I pressed R2, but it didn't do whatever I had expected it to. Instead, the vampire hunters froze - one in mid-air. Half of them turned completely white and disappeared. I pressed R2 again and second half vanished in the same manner. It seemed to be a game glitch.

I was seeing things through Raziel's eyes now, exploring various non-interactive characters around the room that the vampire hunters had been protecting. They were all frozen in place. Then, one by one, they unfroze and finished their lines before disappearing themselves. I was confused by all this and decided to try leaving the room and coming back in.

I ended up in a throne room where Peter Steele and a huge, reddish-brown bird-beast were having a heated argument. When they saw me walk in, each one wanted me on his side. The bird-beast even came up to me and put his arm around me, careful not the scratch me with his big, sharp claws.

It was hard to determine exactly what they were fighting about - they each had seemingly identical throne rooms, each with identical thrones with high backs that reached to the ceiling. One room was behind the other, that was the only difference, but it didn't seem that the fact that the bird-beast's room was in front was in dispute. I couldn't figure out what their problem was and I knew I was wasting valuable time, so I decided to leave and kept a mental note to come back and help them later. (I never got back to them.) I returned to the room where the boss was, which was empty except for Palpatine, who was quietly sitting at a desk with a book. I still couldn't get to him. He wouldn't acknowledge me. I had to figure out what I needed to do to progress.

Then, Red M&M spoke from behind me. I turned around to see him lying with his back bent over something, looking at me upside-down. He was covering something that I needed to uncover, but he couldn't move, he said, unless I touched him with the right reaver. He gestured to my wrist where there was a bulky blue "reaver watch." I twisted the dial to the M&M logo, M&M reaver, and shot a wide, red beam onto him. After that, he disappeared and I advanced, collecting reaver powers on my watch dial as I used the ones I already had to clear the room of various objects.

When I finally managed to clear the room, and was ready for the fight with Palpatine, he didn't rise to fight me. He was peaceful and immediately began explaining himself to me, often referring to the book he had been either writing in or reading.

He explained that he had lived there at Anubis (surely should have been "Avernus," but he clearly said "Anubis") with his girlfriend, but something terrible happened to her and she was dead. It was her death that had set the whole ordeal into motion. He needed Raziel because he was the only one who could kill the creatures/ghouls/whatever that had killed her.

He said, "I couldn't have them here at Anubis. I had to be rid of them." He seemed nearly finished with his story, but I woke up.

A large group of Bajoran and Terran civilians were brought in for a random execution, and Garak and I were to be part of the firing squad. We were given phaser rifles and sent to join the line of soldiers eager to begin the slaughter. I noticed that Garak looked uneasy about what we were about to have to do. I was worried that he'd do something to expose us. I reminded him that we do what we have to do. That seemed to steady him, but then I noticed that I recognized most of the humans. They were childhood schoolmates of mine. I was worried, then, about jeopardizing the mission myself, but I hardened myself and was ready.

We were given the order to fire, and we killed until our phasers lost their charges. There were so many civilians that we couldn't kill them all with what we had, so there would be a second round of executions as soon as we were all given fully charged phaser rifles.

I got tired of waiting for the new rifle and went to a storage room in the back to find a phaser on my own. I found a large light-blue weapon that was like a shotgun phaser. Very intimidating. The shot packs inside it were the size of D-cell batteries.

I aimed it toward the ceiling, resting it on my shoulder, as I returned to my place in line. With this gun in my hand, these civilians were no longer old schoolmates who were unfortunately in the wrong place at the wrong time, they were targets asking for their heads to be blown off and I couldn't wait for the next order to fire.

One of my old classmates, often called "Sissy", took a step toward me and said, "What are you doing? You're not one of them!" Meaning I was Terran and not Cardassian.

"I'm a Cardassian military officer," I told her.

"No, you're not. Why are you doing this?"

I stepped toward her, menacingly. "I could tell you,... but then I'd have to kill you." I smiled at her, fully intending to make her my first target when the order came again. But the order to fire never came. Something about the gul deciding there had been enough killing for that day. I was very disappointed, to the point of dejection even. And that was all.

"A grotesque display," I said in an observant yet detached tone to the man sitting across from me. "I wonder what the parents are like."

I leaned over in my seat to see into the living room where the little boy's parents were sitting on the black couch. I could only see the back of the father's head. He had a full head of unruly dark-blond curls. A little girl, older than the boy, was walking toward me from farther in the living room. She carried a pale-faced doll that had long, red hair and wore a black dress. The girl's hair was dark-blond, like her father's, and pulled back into a pony-tail. As she slowly came my direction, she stared nervously at her seated parents. I knew then that the couple was quietly talking to someone about adopting the little boy, who was still playing with the bloody dog.

"Again, a grotesque display," I said to the man at my table.

Then my perspective changed. It was as if I was floating invisably behind the girl as she moved silently along a high metal walkway while watching her parents, the woman they had been talking to, and the little boy enter an office below.

Then I knew the doll's thoughts. She was afraid that she would be abandoned if the girl had a little brother to play with. The doll was facing me from over her owner's shoulder. The eyes and mouth glowed red-orange from within as it mouthed a silent plea of "No!"

The girl brought her doll in front of her, pulled off its plastic head, and dropped the head down metal stairs far below.

Then I thought, if the meteors were landing in the yard, then others were probably going through my roof and into my house. I dropped the hose and ran inside. My friends came, too. Sure enough, there were holes in my ceiling and meteors on the rug.

Someone yelled and I looked up to see a huge, rectangular meteor lodged in the wall. I looked to the opposite wall and saw the hole where it had come through the side of the house. This is all I remember.

On into the night as she slept, I knew she was slowly dying. There were other people in the room. My sister slept next to her. I woke her up and told her that she should take our mother to a hospital in case she had internal injuries. (I had to be careful not to implicate myself. No one knew I was the one who attacked her.)

She then woke our mother and told her of my concerns. (My mother obviously didn't remember that I had attacked her.) Mother didn't believe she could be dying. To prove it, she spit on the table next to her cot. Her thinking was that if her stomach was punctured, she would spit blood, which she was sure wouldn't happen.

She was shocked when what she spat was blood-red. She finally agreed to go to a hospital. She tried to get up, but suddenly felt pain in her stomach. Commander Riker (from Star Trek: TNG) appeared and helped her outside, where I was trying to decide which car to take her in. There were many cars to choose from in the yard. I picked my old maroon Caprice Classic, but Riker suggested an old olive-green Mustang because he knew it had plenty of gas. As we were getting in, I woke up.

It was like I had forgotten about them until he mentioned them. I agreed, as if that was the deal I meant all along, but truthfully, I had just been selfishly trying to save only myself.

I remember the troubled look on Hank's face after they were released. He didn't at all like that I was staying behind with the enemy. He looked hurt, like he was worried that I had made the agreement partly because I actually wanted to stay with Venger. That's all I remember.

He asked me, "Has the president reformed yet?" (What he meant by this was, Had President Bush changed his mind and decided to take a stronger stand against homosexuals.)

"If he has, he hasn't told me," I answered.

Then a woman approached him and poised to fight. I knew she was meant to represent those who were in favor of more rights for homosexuals. I wondered if I was supposed to help my friend in his fight with her, but before they got started, he held his left arm out and eased me back, never taking his eyes from the woman.

I decided it would be a good idea if I went outside and watched for police. The next thing I knew, Riddick (Vin Diesel) was standing to my left. There were small missiles heading for our position. Everything had gotten so crazy so quickly. Riddick moved his goggles up to his forehead and yelled to his friend, T, "Heat me up, baby!"

T was wearing a black, reflective covering over part of his face that extended from the middle of his forehead to the bottom of his nose. He looked up at the sun and the reflective device directed concentrated sunlight to Riddick's eyes. When Riddick became "charged" by the sun's energy, he directed a powerful discharge from his eyes that destroyed an oncoming missile.

But then three more missiles were coming at us at the same time - two "Sharks" and one of a different type. Riddick and T executed the same maneuver, but Riddick was only able to destroy two of the three with that one shot. One Shark remained and had gotten itself back on course to take us all out. There wasn't enough time for him to recharge for another blast, and our area was hit.

After the explosion, I was in a room with many wounded people - Riddick among them. A nurse was tending to his injured neck, but she was purposefully being too rough about it. I went to them, she left, and I had a look at the back of his neck. There were dark brown patches of burnt flesh that felt like sandpaper when I carefully ran my finger over them.

He was sitting to my right, with his upper body rested across my left arm over my lap. He told me he felt sick, so I reached to get a metal pail for him in case he needed to vomit. It was half full of paper and other junk. He asked me to empty it, saying, "It might be the single best thing you can do for me."

I took a lot of wadded paper out, but even though the pail was small, I could never empty it. There was always a couple more things inside. And then my phone rang and woke me up.

When we were finished skipping, I had to go get my stuff that I'd left under an overpass on the edge of a highway. I had a drink in a blue plastic cup, which I set down on the ground so I could gather my things. The last thing I remember doing there is wrapping wire around two little white speakers so I could put them away. After I finished, and was bending to retrieve my cup, I noticed a blue city work truck slow down as it passed me. I stood straight again and watched it as it slowly went up the road. The driver leaned out of the window and aimed a double-barrelled shot gun at me! I was too bewildered to move. He shot, and a ball of powder hit me on my right side. At first, I thought, Okaaay, it was just powder. But then I remembered what the powder was for: People who worked for the city could mark people that they thought were illegally loitering or just looked suspicious for any reason. The powder would turn the clothes and skin a bright orange color so any policemen who saw the marked person would stop and question or arrest them.

I ran back to the school's restrooms and tried to get the powder out with soap and water. I couldn't get the color all the way out of my white shirt. I couldn't go back to class like that, so I decided to go home.

When I got home, I checked my email. There was one from Professor Snape's office reminding his students to study for a certain test the next day. I realized that the email reminder was from the previous day and that the test was that day. I was already starting to panic when I noticed that the reminder was message "2 of 3" from Snape's office. The first contained an advertisement for a place where you could adopt grotesque pets and deformed children. I only glanced at it, and then went to the third email. I read the title: "Why aren't you here?" I didn't even bother to read the body of the message, I just took off to the school. Missing Snape's class, especially on a test day, was not wise.

I got to his class and sat down. Somehow, I wasn't officially late. Snape wasn't there yet. I saw that everyone had light green booklets. They told me it was a tax form and it was part of the test. Someone went up to Snape's desk to get a copy for me, but there weren't any left. Not a good feeling. I felt like I wouldn't be able to take the test because I got there too late to get one of these green booklets. Maybe Snape had passed them out and carried any extras out with him wherever he had gone. I could still get in trouble.

Suddenly, Snape was sitting right beside me in a common student's desk. I just looked at him, a little surprised. He looked at me with no expression. He had papers, a notebook, and thin plastic protective slips like the ones you store collectible comic books or magazines in on the desk. He passed a plastic cover to me and I put it on as if it were a glove and pulled it tight so it would fit to my fingers. He casually passed me another and I put it on my other hand.

Then, as casually as before, he handed me his notebook, but this time he was looking at me like he was waiting for my reaction to being allowed to see his private notebook. I was definitely surprised to have the privilege and I looked at the page it was turned to. Most of the words were in Latin, and there were strange symbols all over the page. I had the impression that he was trying to shock me for some reason, but I thought it was all so cool.

I flipped through the notebook. Towards the front, I found a page of what I was sure were Voodoo spells. There were some kind of color-coded portions there too. I was sitting close to the door, and I seriously contemplated running out of the room with his notebook. I meant to steal it, but I knew I wouldn't have a chance of succeeding, so I just tried to take in as much as I could right then. I didn't how long he'd let me look through it. I was afraid to show how interested I was becoming in all his spells because I feared he would take it away before I could learn anything significant. Then I woke up.

Then, I wanted to turn on the ceiling fan above the dining room table. My friend warned me that it wasn't working properly. She told me I'd have to keep it on the low setting. I reached up and turned it on, but it went to a high setting and started turning really fast. A couple of the blades folded in so the other blades could spin even faster, that's just how it worked. We were trying to turn it off, but it was hard to get a grip on the chain.

When we did turn it off, I saw a body wrapped up like a mummy above the blades. We brought it down. It was a thin, old lady who looked at least 100 years old. She was dusty and dry from having been up there for so long. My friend's parents came home and I learned that the lady was "Aunt Delia."

The couple decided to go ahead and bury her in the back yard. I watched as they used a wheelbarrow to carry her out. As they dug the grave, I saw that Aunt Delia was still alive, but just barely. Her eyes didn't open, but her mouth moved, making all the wrinkles on her dusty face move too.

Then, Pennywise, the clown from Stephen King's It, came out of nowhere and looked her over with greedy eyes. He didn't notice me at all. I saw dark blood on his chin and around his eyes. He opened his mouth and vomited dark blood all over Aunt Delia. I remember thinking that he was marking her to either turn her into something later or to prepare her so he could eat her later. That's when I woke up.

In a malicious tone of voice, he said something to me about how I should have answered when he and the villagers had called up to me. I hadn't heard them. I figured I must have still been unconscious. I was starting to understand that they had all come up there to capture me, or kill me. Maybe both.

When the villagers made it to the top, they waited and only Snape slowly came forward. As he advanced, he was saying, "The Death Angel, with her misshapen wings and malformed voice,..." And I knew then that that was what I was. I was suddenly aware of my useless wings. I tried to talk, but my voice was scratchy and I couldn't form words.

The closer he got, the more I struggled to stand. I was so dizzy and disoriented. Finally, he reached out and grabbed me by my arms. It threw us both off balance and we stumbled off the cliff.

I took hold of him and used my wings the best I could to prevent the long fall from killing us. We still had a hard landing, but were alright. He had a look of shock on his face, as if he couldn't believe we survived the fall, and also as if he couldn't believe I had saved him. He didn't seem so disgusted with me anymore, and I was glad for that. But then I woke up.

Venger was lying, uncovered and fully dressed in his familiar trappings, on the far side of the bed. I walked around the foot of the bed and crouched at his bedside. I had the feeling that he was dying, and I had gotten there too late. Not that there was anything I could have done - whatever was killing him couldn't be reversed. I hated that I hadn't been told sooner of his condition, but I was sure to be calm as I went in to see him.

We talked for a short while. The only words I clearly remember saying to him are "Remember the time when..." We were obviously reminiscing. I tried to smile at times, but it was difficult because I felt so sad. It was hard to see him lying there so weak and helpless. And what was worse, something inside told me that as soon as I would leave, he would die.

When we were finished talking, I stood up, and then lowered my face to his for a parting kiss. I intended to give him a brief, but loving, kiss on his forehead. Instead, he moved his head so our lips would meet. Our kiss was long and passionate. At the time, it was the best dream-kiss I had ever experienced. When the kiss ended, I slowly raised my head and let the feeling of that unexpected pleasure linger. I woke up before I left his bedside.

Venger summoned one of his Nightmares, the black Blitzkrieg, and she got the little boy safely to the ground. I don't remember if I was the last to be rescued by Blitzkrieg, but when it came my turn, I just kept riding her. We flew for a while, just going everywhere. It was wonderful. She understood my commands very well and was very careful with me. It seems I had only to think of what I wanted her to do and she would do it perfectly.

After joyriding, someone, probably a servant of Venger's, told me to go to a store for potion ingredients. Since I'd already spent so much time with Blitzkrieg, I decided I'd use another of Venger's Nightmares for the task. I sent Blitzkrieg back, but was having trouble remembering the names of his other eleven Nightmares. I thought back to a poem, like a children's rhyme, in which were the names of all twelve Nightmares. It was somehow connected to the positions of the hours on a clock face. It helped to imagine Venger, himself, reciting it. Still, I could only remember three: Blitzkrieg, Othello, and Rudirir (sounded like "Rudimir," except the "m" was an "r").

I instantly recognized the name "Rudirir," and immediately summoned him. I thought I knew what he was like, but I guess I didn't because when I saw him, he wasn't what I was expecting. Rudirir was an ugly, solid, pea-green color, and had a unicorn's horn and red eyes. He didn't look or act very friendly at all, but I decided to keep with my choice.

I went to the store and had to take Rudirir into the store with me because the on-site stables were closed. I left him tied to a post in the front of the store and went on with my shopping. It wasn't long at all before I heard Rudirir start causing problems. He was very bad-tempered. He was kicking aisles over and trying to head-butt anyone who came close to him. I just left him there at the store and went back to Venger's castle, where there was a group of prisoners lounging around. I realized I was a prisoner too, but we all had free run of the castle, so it wasn't so bad.

When he came back, he had ice cream cones rather than a banana split, but it was still one of his grandma's recipes. The cones were weird because they were all halved, you had to hold them together to use them. I took one and went to an ice cream freezer. I slid back the glass door and helped myself to a scoop each of vanilla, chocolate, and one other kind of chocolate.

Before I could start eating it, Mr. B. walked up holding a paper towel against his arm. The paper towel was soaked and dripping with blood. I asked him what happened. He told me that he cut himself while making the cones. He said it was no big deal, but I insisted that we find some peroxide to put on it.

We went into a bathroom, which was the bathroom in the house where I grew up. I found the peroxide, but started to doubt whether or not it was actually peroxide since my mother kept mineral water in a peroxide bottle in that bathroom. I decided it really was peroxide and told Mr. B. to give me his arm.

Unexpectedly, he put the wounded arm, his right arm, around my neck. I thought that maybe he thought it would be easier for me to get to it that way. It was more difficult, but I didn't want to say so. As I was trying to tend his arm, he slid his other hand down my shirt (the collar was wide and loose). I froze in shock. I thought I should say something, but I couldn't when he started pinching my left nipple. It felt so good that I didn't want him to stop. Then, he withdrew his hand from my shirt and rubbed between my legs.

He was about to slide his hand down my jeans when we saw a couple people from the tv crew milling about just outside the door. We immediately started acting like nothing was going on. He hadn't said a word the whole time. He just casually walked out of the bathroom, and I was right behind him wondering what the hell had just happened. I stopped just outside the bathroom and saw my old bedroom to the left. I thought that, if he wanted to, we could finish what he started later in that bedroom.

Then I remembered that I actually lived in an upstairs apartment with a roommate. I knew my roommate wouldn't mind if I invited Mr. B. over to spend the night with me.

I sat down on a black leather couch next to him, and I was just about to say, "So, what are you doing this weekend?" when I woke up.

At the end of the road was a train station. It looked like AmTrak. I boarded the only train I saw, a tad worried that I couldn't confirm its destination.

The train left the station. I started looking for anyone who worked there who could tell me if the train was going to the U.S. I somehow already knew it wasn't, but I still had hope. I finally found a married couple who worked on the train. I couldn't get a clear answer out of them about where the train was going, but I knew it wasn't going the way I hoped. I remember very much wanting to sue the train company after my talk with them.

I looked out various windows as we passed through a city. I saw a huge picture of Pope Benedict XVI on the side of a tall building. I also saw the train go over an unfinished bridge over a large body of water, but it didn't fall into the water.

Soon, the train made a stop. I decided to get off and have a look around before the train left again. I saw a group of people that I was familiar with. I spotted a good friend, Vin Diesel, and we talked as we walked through the rubble of collapsed buildings and broken roads. I realized that we were in Chechnya. I said to Diesel, "I've always wanted to travel, but not like this." Then I left him and got back on the train.

I stopped and looked inside a room of the train. I saw my husband asleep in a recliner and my son quietly playing a few feet away from him. It was like I had forgotten they were with me, even though that was the first time I saw them there. I also noticed that I was carrying a lot of bags full of our stuff. I had the feeling that I was completely responsible for getting us all home. I knew my husband couldn't help in the matter. Then I realized that my son would be hungry soon and I didn't have food or money. On top of that, I discovered that I was bleeding from my period and I didn't have any pads with me. The situation was becoming dire.

I thought I might be in luck when I spotted Geraldo Rivera and a blonde-haired woman sitting next to each other. I thought that, surely, they would be heading to the U.S. at some point. I told Geraldo about my predicament. He offered to give me $100 to get myself home. When I told him that my husband and son were with me, and that $100 might not be enough to buy tickets for all of us, he withdrew his offer completely because he wasn't willing to pay for all of us to get home. I was starting to truly panic when I woke up.

I walked into the place, early for my interview, and waited a bit. Then, the editor, an older lady in her seventies, came in. She had short, curly, white hair and wore a golden-brown, long-sleeved dress and flat brown shoes. She was very energetic and immediately gave me an assignment.

I don't remember the details exactly, but I either had six days to do a three-page report, or three days to do a six-page report on Howard Dean for the front page. I couldn't believe it! I asked her if she wanted opinion or fact, but I don't remember what she told me.

As I was about to leave, she stopped me because she wanted my picture taken to put with my article. My friend whisked me away to the bathroom to help me get ready for the picture. My hair looked awful, and my clothes were baggy and dull. I hated that I would have to take the picture looking like that. Then I woke up.

Next, I was in a bus full of people about my age. Most, maybe all, of them were female. The bus wrecked on a short yet wide rut-filled dirt road surrounded by forest out in the middle of nowhere. We were all thrown out of the bus. I was the first, and apparently only, one to regain consciousness. The bus was gone. Everyone else was face down in the road, but I knew they were still alive.

I was still lying on the ground when I saw what I would describe as a "redneck version of a monster truck." It was an old, faded light blue pick-up truck with big tractor tires. It came through running over everyone. I heard people's bones crunching and snapping in half.

{Of course, in real life, I've never heard a body being crushed, but I believe that, if I were to, it would closely match the sound in this dream.}

Seconds after the first truck left, another came through. This one was more like a late model SUV, on only slightly smaller tractor tires than the light blue truck before it. It passed much closer to me, running over bodies the first truck missed. But there were still plenty more bodies that hadn't been crushed yet, mine among them. When the second truck passed, I moved to hide. I knew that if they saw me move, they'd come after me. At this point, I knew the bus wreck was no accident, and that the drivers had been hired to make sure everyone was dead.

I rolled myself off of the road, only now it was a bridge, and there were green apples rushing over the side of the bridge above me. Peter Pan was "washed" over the side. He grabbed onto two green hoses as he went over, and hung on until all the green apples had rushed through. I just watched him, not believing what I was seeing.

The I had a flashback. I remembered meeting John Ritter and a friend of his in a dimly lit room. They were sitting at a small, round table. An old tv set was beside the table, and an old Peter Pan movie was playing. It was made in 1947 and starred a young John Ritter. John and his friend said something to each other about how the time had passed, then I was back to the other part of the dream.

Peter and I teamed up and found a camera to take pictures of other trucks that came through for possible use as evidence later. There was nothing we could do for the victims.

Our evidence led us to one of my father-in-law's neighbors, Tony Jay. (My dreams' casting director never fails me. *smile*) We found him and my father-in-law talking. Tony was blackmailing him. Peter and I listened. We discovered that Tony hired people to cause the "fake" bus accident, and also hired people to use the trucks to crush the injured bodies. He had his own false evidence that could prove that my father-in-law was the one who really committed the crimes, and he would turn his evidence over to police unless my father-in-law gave him $10,000 so he could buy a certain accessory for his grill so he could impress a new girlfriend the next night.

Peter disappeared, and I emerged with the evidence he and I had collected against Tony. Tony quickly backed down from his threats. That being over, my father-in-law and I walked back to his house. It was a calm, cool, early autumn evening in the city. The sun had just gone down. Nice time and weather for a walk.

Along the way, several people we met on the sidewalk were pointing at my father-in-law and laughing. I looked to see what they were laughing at. My father-in-law had a booger just inside one nostril. He asked me what it was they were laughing at. I told him it was nothing, and to ignore everyone. But on the inside, I was laughing too.

But I was still upset. We had spent hundreds of dollars on the procedure that could have been spent on bills. And I was tired of birth control methods that were never 100% effective. I hated that, as a female, I was the one to suffer the consequences of sexual intercourse with defective birth control.

I told the doctor, then and there, that I wanted a sex change. My anger made me determined. I didn't give my husband a chance to say anything against it. All I knew was that I never again wanted the possibility of pregnancy to get in my way of enjoying sex, and I could no longer enjoy it because of that possibility. I was fed up with being female.

I went home with a penis stitched into place where my clitoris had been. It was small and limp, but the bottle of hormone pills that I had would change that as it completed my transformation into a real man.

My husband was supportive and made an honest effort to accept the effects of my decision. He was patient and helpful, but somehow his support made me feel worse. Already, I was regretting my hasty decision. I started thinking about what sex would now be like. I had a penis, but I would still have a vagina until the hormones caused it to close. The sensitivity from my clitoris hadn't yet travelled to the head of my new penis, but I could feel pleasurable sensations if I pushed against its base.

I made up my mind not to take the prescribed hormones. I hated what I had done to myself. I wanted things back the way they were. I wanted to fully be a woman again. I realized how stupid I had been to have demanded a sex change right there on the spot without thinking or considering other people. I thought about our five-year-old son, and how my turning into a man could affect him -- he wouldn't have a mother anymore, and he wouldn't understand why.

I felt horrible. I started looking all through the house for my husband because I had to tell him that I was suicidal. I didn't know how much the procedure had cost, hadn't cared at the time, but since we were already on a tight budget beforehand, I knew we had to be deeply in debt now. And there I was, desperate to have the procedure reversed! I didn't know how we could possibly pay for it, but I knew that, even without the hormone pills, my new penis would slowly change me into a man on its own. I also knew the change would become harder to reverse with each passing day. I wanted to rip the penis off of myself. I was so miserable. Trying to keep from crying was causing my whole body to ache.

I woke up with the matter unresolved.

I found the stereo that was playing the Frank Sinatra tape and discovered the tape was my mother-in-law's. It was a "Greatest Hits." So I knew then that she was somewhere at this get-together.

Then I had to pee, but I couldn't find a decent bathroom. When I would find a toilet, it was out in the open where people were standing around and talking. I was having my period and I didn't want to expose my bloody maxi-pad to anyone, so I kept looking for a better place to go.

After searching for a while, I found what I decided was the best place: There was a toilet in the corner of a darkened dining room. There were only two people standing at the other end of the room and they weren't paying attention to me, so I decided to go ahead and relieve myself.

As I sat down to pee, the two people left the room. I felt better finally having something close to privacy. But then an old man entered and was slowly walking toward me. I recognized him as the man who bought the house across from mine. He'd never looked very friendly -- just a tall, thin, creepy old man.

With the lights off, I couldn't see his expression. His shadowy form came slowly closer and closer, making me very uncomfortable. I didn't know what to do. It was obvious he was coming straight for me -- and there I was in a very vulnerable position on the toilet.

I couldn't stop him when he grabbed my thighs. I started screaming. When his hands almost reached my genitals, I finally managed to push him away. As quickly as I could, I was getting myself off the toilet and my pants back up, but he took advantage of my busy hands and grabbed my breasts. When I was finally able to stand, screaming still, he quickly backed away.

Just then, my mother-in-law entered the room with a few other people. The old man was still in the room, but he had backed away far enough that no one seemed to notice him when they came in.

In this dream, I was truly traumatized by what happened. I felt so violated and helpless. I was crying and yelling that he had grabbed my breasts, but I didn't seem to be getting through to anyone. Through tears and a choked voice, I told my mother-in-law what happened as I watched, from the corner of my eye, my attacker quietly slip away. I wanted him stopped, but nobody seemed interested in helping me. Quite the opposite, my mother-in-law started mocking me, imitating my sobs. She said that I was probably lying since I had stolen a pen of hers one time.

I didn't know what she was talking about until she showed me the other pens of the set from which the stolen pen had been taken. They looked familiar, and I remembered then that my son had had a pen like that after she had brought him home from her house one night. It was light turquoise.

I tried to explain, as others watched, that my son must have picked it up while at her house. At the time, I had thought she had given it to him to take home. It was so frustrating having to stop and clear up such a petty thing while the old man was getting away.

Later, I went outside to meet my husband, who had just arrived. I hated to have to tell him what had happened to me, but I knew he had to be told, and it would be best if it came from me and as soon as possible -- before anyone else could make up their own versions to tell.

I tried my best to greet him calmly and start telling him all that had happened, but I couldn't stop my voice from shaking, the tears from returning, or my throat from tightening. Before I could tell him the whole story, I woke up.