Rebuilding the Dream
By Dana Quell

Somewhere deep within her mind she knew things, like where she was and who she had been before she had gotten here. And that she didn't belong here if she could only know things like that. But those little bits of knowledge were buried so deep within her subconscious mind that her conscius mind couldn't have access to the same knowledge. So she laughed non-stop, hating the not-knowing, hating this place that she could never comprehend. Except when she laughed, the people never seemed to hear her.

People dressed in white-always in white- would come to her, some keeping their distance and talking to each other in hushes voices with words not meant for her to hear, others taking her hand in theirs and talking passionately to her about things that held no particular meaning. Others still would just stare at her, or cry or shout- and they would do this for however long they stayed, while she laughed or... dreamed.

She knew not what she dreamed of- at least, her conscious mind didn't know. The fragments that it could pick out were sometimes green and verdant, sometimes steep and rocky. Other dreams were of cats possessed, or long jogs through ominous woods unknown. She knew they weren't all the same dream- couldn't possibly. But if only she had more fragments, then-yes, possibly even then!- she could begin to piece them back together.

She had been dancing for five minutes now to some jazzy little tune she couldn't name. She was thirsty, but she didn't want to stop. She liked him much too much to even begin to stop.

And suddenly she was running through the woods, tripping over branches, slowly decomposing piles of last autumn's leaves, and giant, fallen logs trying to leave him behind.

Suddenly there was no ground beneath her feet. Surprised, she caught herself just in time to save herself and scrabble for the cliff's edge. Looking down, she saw sharp, jagged rocks; rocks that looked for all the world like a giant's sharp teeth, awaiting her fall to dash her to pieces and swallow her.