The dreams are back . . . the ones I used to have. When Not Me was roaming my head at will, they had gone. In all honesty, that was a sort of relief . . . to face the nightmares he devised to torture me rather than the ones that drove me out into the streets night after night.

They had been gone for a while actually. I almost thought I was free of them.

But the dreams were back. I know that my father would have described it as the Reckoning. He would have claimed I was having visions of the Gates of Hell opening up and the Devil’s minions pouring out to feast upon the wicked.

But I’ve known, since the institution, that this was no work of divine good or divine evil

This was far worse.

The deaths of millions had caused the very fabric of reality to tear itself apart, unleashing world storms and demon swarms. In turn, the chaos claimed tens of millions of lives which fuelled massive tectonic catastrophes and brought forth beasts from beyond all understanding. Soon the death toll was in the hundreds of millions and finally billions in an uncontrollable feedback cycle. The sky was filled with ash from a thousand volcanoes and the smoke of a thousand dead cities. The sea rose to claim the land in tsunamis that raced hundreds of miles inland . . .

This was beyond Armageddon, beyond Apocalypse, beyond Ragnarok . . .

This was the End of the World.

And I was standing, helpless, rooted to the spot.

I knew I could have prevented this. I knew I should be fighting, giving those few who may survive the precious moments to escape.

But I was frozen. Helpless in anger and fear.

A hand touched my shoulder and slid down my wrist to grasp my hand and hold it tightly.

“It’s all right, Ron,” a voice said. “Everything will be all right.”

Suddenly, I could move my head. I looked to the hand holding mine. It was slim and tanned and delicate, obviously female’s.

“What do you mean?” I said. “The world is dying down there and I’m not doing a damned thing to help!”

“Can you?” the feminine voice asked.

“I’m doing my damnedest!” I cried out furiously. “This is what I was chosen for! I should be down there helping them! Even if I die doing it!”

The voice was unruffled by my outburst.

“You’ve always helped humanity when you could. But even you must accept your limitations, Ron Caliburn. Why worry about something you cannot help?”

Then I woke up.

That is disturbing.

Maybe its your past catching up to you, or asshole has learned a few new tricks.

Is it Gabrielle? The girl from the asylum?

Well, I have no clue then.

Think it is related to the business with the seal?

Ron this is majorly messed up? And I think I may need to talk to you about somethings in the near future.

It sounds like a regular dream Ron. Certainly this woman could be something or someone real, but she could also be just a part of the dream.

I have to say, that if that is a vision of the future, I hope it doesn't happen anytime soon.

The only way to combat something on that scale is with knowledge.

Yeah I kinda thought it was a vision not a dream. Thats part of the reson I wanted to talk to you about it later.

Well if this is a vision, perhaps this visitor is a guide of some sort. Still, i'm just guessing here. I'll talk to Sarah, she has more info on things like this.

Yeesh. I think your finaly going crazy on us Ronn. oops. To Late!

I had another dream. It was more unusual than the others because I think it was ordinary. Only it wasn’t. It left off from where my last one had ended.

The final battle was still in force, though it looked completely hopeless. There were still a few pockets of resistance by the humans, but they were quickly being overwhelmed. Still, I couldn’t move. Again, I could when the slim, delicate female hand found mine. Instantly, I swung to face her.

Her features were all washed out, as though I was looking at her from behind a steamed glass door. All I could tell was she was tanned, slender, and probably beautiful. She had long brown hair that cascaded down her shoulders in waves like a waterfall.

“How can I help you, Ron?” she asked.

“By telling me what’s going on,” I replied and looked from her to my dying race, and back to her again. “I’m sick of dreams and cryptic messages. Why are you here? Why am I here? I should be helping them!”

“This dream is a manifestation of one of your greatest fears,” she explained. “You are afraid that without you, the world will fall.”

I chose to believe her. “And who are you?”

“My name is Eilonwy Solstice.” It didn’t sound like a lie. But then, it didn’t sound like a name, either. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because . . . I owe you.”

I woke up.

That name sounds very familar to me Ron.

Me to. Its from those one books. Cant rember the name. But its that one chick thats allways givin Tarzan or whathisface lip.