state of revolution ... they killed my driver. I was alone and they were all around me...”

“Science fiction,” she cooed and stroked his hair. “I think it’s a good sign. All you ever read, for relaxation, was science fiction. Your dream was probably a story you once read and your mind put you in the hero’s place.”

He sat up and looked at her. “Did I cry out?”

“You were mumbling. I couldn’t hear what you said. Then you began sobbing and thrashing about.”

Nick ran his fingers through his hair and over the back of his neck, the reality of the dream almost too much for him. It wasn’t an ordinary nightmare where he would be running, with a huge monster panting in pursuit. This was frightening. Like a memory. Like some damned fantastic memory.

He stood up and patted her shoulder. “Go back to sleep, Beth,” he told her gently. “I’m going downstairs.”

“Shall I turn on a light?”

[p45]“No. It might cause the neighbors to wonder.” He walked to the door of the bedroom. “The moon is bright enough.”

[p45]

[p

]

He walked into the hall, feeling his way in the dark places, and down the stairs into the living room. As he sat in the chair near the window, he thought about the dream. It bothered him, because it was unlike a dream; it had the weird consistency and logic of a memory, yet seemed almost supernatural ... Hell, what kind of thing had huge, yellow eyes and stood nine feet tall? What sort of a world had a violet sky and grey-green rocks? The whole damned thing had the scent of a Walt Disney movie, the colors vivid and sharp, the landscape seemingly done by a watercolor brush.

Thista.

Apparently it was some kind of planet and he hoped that Beth was right. Would it be possible for a man to get so confused via a crack on the head, that he believed he had lived through the literature he’d once read? What would he dream about next? Macbeth? Treasure Island? Christ, what a world!

If he could get to a doctor, a headshrinker, it might all be ironed out. They would get things squared away in a short while, but hell ... suppose I’m Public Enemy Number One, or something. Thirteen months! In thirteen months kings have been broken, dynasties crushed ... What had happened to him in 

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