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(It hasn't always worked that way. It didn't work for most of your life. You did a lot of thinking, but there wasn't anything coming true. Richard came true, but he wasn't at all how you wanted him, not after the beginning.)
(When did it start?)
(Why did it...)
(If you knew, if you could put your finger on it, then you feel like you'd know...)
(Would know...)
(Would know what was wrong.)
...
You sleep.
—
You, a wound, a knife, tortoiseshell, blood, your blood, his blood, his blood: black, white, red. You, the ocean, the eye: red, yellow, white. You, the earth. A cave, a sewer, a tunnel, a cavern. You and snakes, worms, Wyrms: black and yellow, red and red. You and lizards: white, red, black. You and lizard-things. You are sweat and convulsions and there is a lizard-thing bent over you. A lizard-thing is picking you up and cradling you.
<span class="mu-i">Charlotte Frances Fawkins. Never a good dream. Never any rest.</span>
You are not awake, but you calm in its delicate grip. Your fingers clamp around its spines.
<span class="mu-i">It's not fair. I know it isn't. It's not your fault. Do you remember? It's not your fault.</span>
<span class="mu-i">Know that soon. Be happy. Dream well, for once.</span>
<span class="mu-i">And, er, don't forget about Claudia. She would like you to be reminded.</span>
You sigh and murmur, pressing your face against the lizard-thing's soft scales.
<span class="mu-i">You're... I don't know. Don't let me wake you up.</span>
<span class="mu-i">I love you, Lottie.</span>
In one moment there is a lizard-thing and in the next there isn't, but you perceive no difference: in one moment you are being cradled, and in the next moment you are being cradled. You are swathed in cotton and down and clover and meadowsweet, and you are taken to the end of the pier and allowed into the water, and it is the color of your eye and the temperature of your body, and you neither float nor sink in it but hang in place— rest in place. You rest.
—
>What do you have a GOOD dream about?
>[1] Your family. Life at home.
>[2] The end of your quest. Victory.
>[3] Tomorrow. It goes perfectly.
>[4] Gil. Teddy. There's no threat.
>[5] Write-in? (Subject to veto.)
