Dark Sanity
Chapter Two

The Streaming Dream

Flint entered his home in the afternoon, haggard. He yawned when he stepped inside. Closing the door behind him, he noticed Sarah and Tom sitting in the hall looking fretful. Seeing their father, they hugged him. Flint closed his eyes for a moment, embracing them too.

“I was so worried,” said Sarah.

“What happened, dad?” asked Tom.

“Long story,” replied Flint. He rubbed his son’s hair and kissed his daughter on the forehead. “Let’s just say that the festival will be a peaceful night to remember.”

Being with Sarah and Tom was the only true joy he had left. Not even being a cowboy made him feel content, even though it presented him with the freedom he needed. Freedom was the second most important thing to him after his children. Without such freedom in the world, he would rather die than be a slave or prisoner. Sadly, he felt he wasn’t far from being a prisoner since Amanda was his wife. Flint cherished this very moment, holding his son and daughter. But the family reunion was short lived because Amanda entered the hall. He didn’t even have to look at her to know that she was glaring at him.

“Flint Cross, where have you been?” she asked furiously.

“Save it, Amanda,” said Flint. He let go of his children, removed his bandolier, and then walked away from his family. “I know everyone’s coming over for the festival in an hour or so, but right now I’m really tired and need a nap.”

“Don’t you dare walk away from me!” yelled Amanda.

She grabbed his arm as though ready to tear it off. Flint, however, shoved her away with force. Amanda shrieked while pushed against the wall and then shriveled down to the floor. Tom and Sarah gasped when they witnessed what their father had done.

“I’m not in the mood to hear your bitching, so shut up,” said Flint.

“I’ve had enough of your dirty little secrets,” whimpered Amanda. “You can’t just leave us whenever you feel like it and not say anything!”

“Looks like I just did,” retorted Flint.

“Stop fighting,” said Sarah. “I’m sick of this. Is it really so hard for the two of you to get along? I feel we’re not a real family anymore.”

Although nodding, Tom kept quiet, staring at the dusty mat on the floor while Amanda cried in the corner of the hall. Tom mutually hated the endless arguments between his father and mother, except he never knew how to express himself. He was a bit too reserved. Instead he let his older sister handle these problems.

“Everybody else is happy,” continued Sarah. “Why can’t we be happy too?”

Flint didn’t respond or even look at his daughter. He felt ashamed, knowing in his heart that Sarah had a point; she was always honest, logical, and emotionally strong. Flint, however, merely responded with a grunt and went upstairs to his bedroom. He locked the door behind him, sighing. He thought to himself, today was supposed to be a memorable day; it was supposed to be about family. Flint heard Sarah’s voice in his head, telling him to fix this horrible family feud. But, instead of fixing the problem, he ignored it. He simply took off his boots and hat, rested on the bed, and fell asleep.

The bedroom darkened. A shadow of a woman swept by from the door to the window on the other side. Then the floral wallpaper ripped off the walls, replaced with a nomadic design of Australian wildlife. At that moment the window reshaped into glass doors leading to a balcony, the beige drapes changing into sheer curtains.

Flint yawned, opening his eyes and rising from his bed. He noticed that the bedroom was different. Yet he wasn’t surprised by this strange occurrence. Standing up, he put his hat back on and walked over to the balcony’s glass doors through which he could see an ocean. The house he resided in was now on a beach. Opening the doors, he heard waves rising and falling. The sky was clear—not a single cloud in sight. It was a beautiful panorama, but more beautiful was the woman in front of him.

Leaning on the balustrade was a petite woman who wore a white gown with sexy curves, long black hair, and a tan complexion. Standing behind her, Flint caressed her shoulders. She looked no older than thirty. Despite the major age difference, Flint knew he’d always loved her, and she loved him. This was the woman he had longed for all his life. He was so enthralled by her beauty that he no longer cared about his family, especially Amanda.

“Hamarah,” he whispered.

She touched his hand, facing him as the wind swept through her hair. “Yes, Ethan,” she said, “it’s me. I’ve been waiting for you to escape that awful town so you can replace me.”

“Escape?” he said. “You mean Desonas?”

“It’s not safe there,” she said. “In fact, nowhere in Australia is safe. Browder knew it, and that’s why he lost his mind.”

“How do you know about Browder?”

“Because you and I are one,” she said affectionately. “I always know what’s on your mind: what you’re feeling and what you’ve seen.”

Holding him close, Hamarah kissed his dry lips. Flint could hardly believe what he was experiencing—being able to see and hold the love of his life again; to feel her lips and hear her sweet voice was too good to be true.

“Is this real?” he asked.

She nodded at him.

“How long do we have together?”

Her eyes cast down, she answered, “Not long, I’m afraid. But I’ll always be waiting for you to come back. All you have to do is remember and you’ll be able to replace me.”

Gently holding her arms with a desperate look, he asked, “What must I remember?”

She stared into his eyes with an endearing gaze. Flint stared back at her, stroking her hair. He needed to hear her voice again, but all he heard were the waves of the ocean. Hamarah didn’t respond. Instead she held him and kissed him passionately. Flint wanted the kiss to last forever. The longer he kissed her tender lips, however, the more difficult it was to feel the warmth of her body. Soon he couldn’t smell her either. Then she was gone, like his memories.

Flint awoke on his bed. The room had returned to its original form. The withered floral-design wallpaper welcomed him back to his sad reality. He looked for the balcony, but it was merely a window again. Hamarah was gone. Sitting up on his bed, he felt lonely and depressed. He rubbed his eyes and then scratched his scruffy goatee, continuing to ponder about what had happened.

“She felt so real,” he muttered to himself.

As he wondered about Hamarah, three voices emerged within his mind. One was telling him to leave this wretched, desolate town and replace his soul mate. Another voice whispered that he was delusional, and that if he continued down this path of thought, he’d lose his sanity. The third voice was telling him that whether Hamarah was real, he had an obligation as a husband, father, and cowboy to protect his family and the people of Desonas. Flint desperately wanted to leave. The moral voice within him, however, overpowered his temptation to go. In the end, he felt that the dream was just a wild fantasy from his twisted subconscious. His life, despite how miserable it made him, was here with Amanda.

Since he’d gotten some rest, he felt it was time to go downstairs and eat something. When he put his boots on, he got to his feet and heard music from outside. That’s when he realized it was evening—the townspeople had come to his family’s festival. Feeling more energized after his nap, he grabbed his hat and left the bedroom. Upon opening the door, he heard several people talking. Going downstairs, he saw Joey playing poker in the kitchen with a group of men: Deputy Ted Thornton, Kevin Smith, and Martin Aleman.

Ted looked about Flint’s age. He was clad in black and wore his deputy badge with pride. Like Joey, he had a thick mustache, except it was gray. The other two were a lot younger. Kevin had wavy blonde hair and was wearing overalls. Martin had red hair with freckles and also wore overalls. Flint came into the kitchen, joining them.

“Here’s our hero!” said Joey. He stood up and patted Flint with delight while the others greeted him. “I told ’em all ’bout how ya bested tha beast!”

“Nice one, Flint,” said Kevin Smith.

“Yes, I saw that thing as soon as I came inside,” said Ted, shaking Flint’s hand. “You’re a terrible taxidermist,”—Flint chuckled at his comment—“but it’s good to know you’re still the best cowboy. Other than a koala, I never knew those critters lived here in Australia.”

“Neither did I,” said Flint. “In fact, Joey over here got all indigenous on me and thought it was a yowie.”

The guests at the table laughed.

“Why don’t you join us?” asked Martin.

“I’d like to, but I’m expected to be the host outside,” said Flint. “Perhaps after I see how my other guests are doing I’ll come back and take some of Joey’s money.”

Joey laughed. “Okay, see ya later.”

Leaving the kitchen, Flint glanced at his trophy and thought about his dream. He couldn’t get Hamarah out of his mind. This wasn’t healthy, he conceded. Hoping that the festival would help him get his feet on the ground, he exited his house and stood on the porch, observing his company. People were square dancing to the music ranging from guitars, fiddles, accordions to harmonicas. Many families were dancing together. Even Preacher Harrison was dancing. Flint felt so happy to see his guests having such a great time that he finally stopped contemplating about his dream.

The women were clad in their nicest dresses with bodices while the men looked more rugged than usual. Flint, however, didn’t mind their attire. What mattered to him the most was that they were having a wonderful time together. He spotted Amanda standing at the corner of the porch, speaking to Penny Tutherfield, the only doctor in Desonas. They giggled when Flint glanced at them. He tipped his hat at the doctor but didn’t give his wife eye contact—he was still agitated by her attitude. She surprisingly kept quiet, not starting another fight.

Flint stepped down the porch and noticed two groups of men, who were mostly miners, creating commotion. One group arm wrestled while the other competed in a game of five-finger fillet.

“Hey, dad!” called out Tom. “You’ve gotta see this!”

Flint came over and greeted the gang of miners. He came just in time to see Daren Linko compete against Walter Hamel—owner of The Wild Owl saloon. Daren, recognizable because of his facial mutton chops, grabbed a knife on the wooden table, jabbing it between his fingers. The onlookers’ eyes were wide open. Daren was pretty vicious and quick with the blade; he finished his pattern in ten seconds. Walter scrubbed his chin patch, grumbling.

“Beat that,” said Daren smugly.

Walter, slack-jawed, took the knife and attempted to mimic Daren’s pattern. He was, however, moving his hand too slow. The miners booed loudly at his cowardice. Despite them complaining, he continued moving the knife sluggishly. Eleven seconds passed, and he wasn’t even half way finished. Walter sighed, giving his opponent eight coins.

“That’s right, I own this game!” said Daren.

Gazing at him with an equally smug expression, Flint took a seat. Daren looked at him curiously but nevertheless stuck the knife into the center of the table, acting like he was done. Flint, on the other hand, cracked his knuckles while yawning.

“You don’t own this game yet, Linko,” said Flint.

The miners grew rowdy and cheered him on, especially his son. Daren, in response, arrogantly took back the knife.

“You’re on, old man,” said Daren. “Let’s go with one round and see if you survive. But how much are you willing to wager, huh? One coin?” Some of the miners guffawed at Daren’s sarcasm, yet Flint maintained his smug expression as Daren edged him on further, “Maybe two? Or is that too risky?”

“Twelve,” said Flint.

Daren flinched. Though surprised, he remained steadfast and jabbed the knife in his usual reckless pace. Flint didn’t blink once while his rival struck the knife between his fingers. Daren acted as though the knife were a plastic toy that could never harm him. This time he finished in nine seconds. Jamming the knife into the table, he praised himself.

“Who’s the man?” said Daren. “That’s right, I’m the man!”

Flint smirked, taking the knife. The spectators were silent as he put his left hand on the table. Then, in a rapid movement, he thrust it back and forth between his fingers. He repeated this and finished the pattern within seven seconds. It happened so fast that Daren dropped his coins in disbelief. Even the others at the table could hardly believe what they’d just witnessed. Flint’s speed was almost inhuman.

“Dad, that was incredible!” said Tom.

“Thanks, son,” winked Flint. He stood up, collected the coins, and patted Daren on the shoulder. “Better luck next time.”

The miners laughed at Daren. The guests at the table now had the urge to challenge him again. In the meantime, Flint walked over to a table with food. By then, those who were dancing had stopped and took a break beside the bonfire, gleefully listening to the musicians play their instruments. Marshal Salomon, on the other hand, approached Flint.

“Cross,” called out Salomon. “It’s good to see that you and Joey made it back safely. Any good news or—”

Flint nodded at him despite the fact that he was uptight about the ordeal. “You don’t have to worry about Browder anymore, Marshal,” he said.

“Excellent,” said Salomon, secretly handing Flint a pouch full of coins.

“I’m not sure if I deserve this, but thanks,” he said. “Joey was the one who silenced him. I managed to take out his posse—seven of them; though, it’s possible there can be more. I think it would be wise for us to keep our eyes open in case there are others still lurking around.”

“Good idea,” said Salomon. “At least Browder is out of the way. And who knows, maybe you did take care of all his goons.”

“I don’t know,” said Flint, looking troubled.

Salomon stared at him curiously and asked, “Is something bothering you?” He wasn’t getting a response, so he patted Flint on the shoulder. “Listen, you did your best. Try to relax now. By the way, this is a splendid festival; though, I must admit, I was a bit worried that you wouldn’t show yourself. Amanda said you were feeling sick.”

“Sick of her, yes,” scoffed Flint. “But don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I wouldn’t miss this festival if it were the end of the world.”

A flash of suspicion arose in the marshal’s eyes, caused by Flint’s choice of words.

“Great,” said Salomon. “You know, Flint, sometimes you say the strangest things. But I guess that’s what makes you who you are.”

“Right,” said Flint.

Salomon let out a sigh and said, “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to your guests and rejoin my wife. See you around, Cross.”

“Stay close,” said Flint.

“Huh?” uttered Salomon, intrigued.

“I’ve got a fancy speech coming up and would like everyone to be around when I give it,” he said.

Salomon nodded with an amused grin, rejoining his wife who was talking to Amanda by the porch. Flint, meanwhile, took off his gloves, tucking them in his vest’s pocket. He noticed the bear steak that Amanda and Sarah had prepared. The smell was intoxicating to him. Though, before he could grab a piece of the seasoned meat, Sarah came by with her fiancé.

“Good evening, Flint,” said Jake Salomon.

“Jake,” he said, shaking his hand. “It’s always great to see you.”

“Same here.”

Jake Salomon, second deputy of Desonas and Marshal Salomon’s son, was a twenty-two-year-old man who had green eyes, short brown hair, and a light beard. Although seeing him with his arm around Sarah didn’t please Flint, he let it slide since they were engaged.

Flint hugged his daughter, gently kissing her forehead. “Are you two love birds having a decent time?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said.

“Yes, it’s been quite a while since we were all together,” said Jake. “It’s a nice feeling. I don’t think this would’ve been possible without you, Flint. In fact, I heard most of the food here is thanks to you hunting in the wilds.”

“Ah, it’s the least I could do,” said Flint. His stern face unexpectedly blushed despite the fact that he was attempting to act manly in front of Jake.

“Awww, dad’s blushing.”

“Wha-what?” he stuttered. “No I’m not. It was nothing, really. Besides, I had Tom and Joey by my side. They helped a great deal. Which reminds me: can you tell Joey and the others who’re inside to come out? I’d like to have a word with our guests.”

“Sure,” she said, returning to her house with Jake.

While continuing to listen to the entertaining music, Flint heard loud groans. Turning to his left, he noticed two men arm wrestling. Yet they weren’t just any men; they were the Panzo brothers, also known as the titan-steel brothers. Brock and Bas Panzo were the bulkiest men Flint had ever known. A single look at them made him feel like he was in desperate need to get back in shape; though, he wasn’t in bad shape for being fifty-nine years old.

More miners gathered to watch the titan-steel brothers continue to arm wrestle. Patrons stood behind them, flaunting their money and anxiously shouting out the names of their chosen bets to win. Even though money had little importance, the miners nevertheless loved to gamble. Flint came by to watch as the brothers grumbled, gnashing their teeth in an attempt to overpower each other. Eventually, even those who were playing five-finger fillet came over to watch.

To Flint, it had always been difficult for him to tell the difference between Brock and Bas; however, up close there was one thing that made each of them distinguishable, which was that Brock had a massive auburn beard while Bas had an auburn goatee. Other than that, they looked about the same: sweaty, huge, muscular, and hairy titans. It looked like their bulky arms were about to explode while moving from left to right.

The viewers were getting louder, except Flint who didn’t know whom he wanted to win. He mutually liked Brock and Bas and knew they were equally strong. So, to him, it was literally impossible to determine who would win. After a long minute of grimacing and grumbling at each other, they let go and guffawed. Both of them grabbed their tankards, clashed them together, and drank their ale in great swigs. The guests, meanwhile, booed at the draw.

“How come you guys never go at it to the end,” jeered Daren Linko. The other miners agreed with his complaint while he added, “We gotta know who’s stronger!”

“My dad’s stronger,” said Tom boldly. The commotion ended right away as the miners looked at Tom. No one wanted to laugh out of respect for Flint, though they couldn’t hide their grins; even Brock and Bas were replaceing it difficult to hold their laughter. “I mean it!” snapped Tom, noticing their reactions.

“My son’s jesting,” said Flint, chuckling.

“Show us what yer made of, cowboy,” said Joey.

Flint swallowed, glancing at his best friend. He wanted to give him a dirty look; however, many of the guests joined in the excitement. With the exception of Sarah who felt rather fretful, they were eager to see this arm-wrestling match.

“Come on, Flint,” went on Joey, “how ‘bout takin’ on Bas?”

“Yeah, dad,” said Tom excitedly. “You’re amazing at everything. And when you beat Bas it means you can take on Brock too!”

Flint sighed and began, “Well—”

“Excellent,” interrupted Daren. “I’m wagering on Bas!”

“No betting this time, folks,” said Marshal Salomon. “Flint’s already tired what with the hunt. And we all know we’re only here because of him, so let’s cut the man some slack.”

With the exception of Daren Linko, who wanted to win back the money he’d lost in five-finger fillet, the guests agreed. Flint didn’t want to arm wrestle Bas; however, since his son and guests were so excited, he felt he had no choice but to comply. He placed his elbow on the table, followed by Bas whose biceps were triple the size of his. They gripped each other’s hands and then looked at Brock.

The nod he gave was the signal for them to begin. The onlookers kept quiet while they watched with unintentional excitement, eagerly waiting to see Flint get tossed across the table. Bas attempted to pin him down. His arm, however, didn’t budge. Flint expected to lose within seconds, yet he managed to push forward.

For a split second Flint felt as though time stopped. The viewers were silent. He could hear his heart pounding, sweating heavily. There was something wrong about this, he thought. How could he possibly have the strength to resist his hulk of an opponent? Without thinking on this further, he no longer resisted. He then felt time being restored, and Bas pinned his arm down so hard that it wouldn’t have surprised anyone if a bone in his body had been fractured; though, he was strangely fine. Bas smiled, most of the spectators praising him.

“Dad, are you okay?” asked Sarah.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Tom was disappointed and surprised. Apparently, he’d just realized that his father wasn’t perfect after all. Joey patted Flint on the shoulder, proud of him, contrary to Amanda who rolled her eyes and sulked under her breath in response to their macho behavior. Some of the guests clapped, pleased to have witnessed such an event. Bas, meanwhile, was very impressed with Flint but said nothing. With the exception of Bas, no one acknowledged what had happened in that split second, and Flint hoped he’d keep it this way.

“Nice try,” said Salomon.

“Thanks,” replied Flint. He looked at Bas and said, “My goodness, you’re an incredible arm wrestler.”

“You’re not bad yourself, Flint,” said Bas.

“Right,” said Flint, trying to sound diffident. He stood up and noticed that all his guests were present. If he had a speech as he’d told Marshal Salomon, then there was no better time to share it than now. “Well, before I retire with Doctor Tutherfield,”—Many of the guests laughed softly while Flint jiggled his right wrist—“I mean, before I retire to bed, I’d like to say a few things.”

“Ya got two minutes,” said Joey.

“Thanks,” said Flint, smirking. “First, I want to thank all of you for coming. It means a lot to me that we’re all here. I’d like to think that we’re fairly close to each other by nature, but most of the time we’re busy with our personal lives. A lot of you spend hours working hard in the mine or on your farms. It’s never easy here, but I think we’re doing just fine. So though we have our responsibilities every day, I’m grateful we were able to get together and have fun. In fact, gratitude is what this is about, which leads me to tell all of you how this festival came to mind.”

Most of the people looked overly curious.

Flint continued, “Dreams are a gift. And we know how rare it is when we remember one, especially when it makes us realize what’s most important in life. Odd thing is…I had this dream twice.”

“That’s very interesting, Flint,” said Marshal Salomon. “When exactly did you first have this dream? What was it about?”

“It happened a couple of weeks ago, in the beginning of the month. In the dream, I found myself lying in the middle of some badlands after an explosion. It’s kind of scary because I was dying.” Several of the guests gasped. “I’m still here,” he added, chuckling. “I don’t know where I was. Though, there were a lot of people gathering around me. I think they were soldiers…it’s hard to remember. Oh, and for some reason they called me Ethan.”

Marshal Salomon glanced at Doctor Tutherfield who suspiciously glimpsed at him too while Flint spoke.

“I thought you said it’s impossible for him to remember anything,” whispered Salomon.

Tutherfield, slightly irritated, muttered, “These are just residual memories—grains. He can’t possibly put the pieces together. The bush tucker will keep him in line.”

“And if he stops eating it?”

“Why on earth would he do that?” she snapped quietly.

Snorting and looking back at Flint, he asked calmly, “And you had this dream twice?”

“Yeah,” replied Flint. “I had it again last week. There was more to the dream, but sadly I can’t remember. All I know was that these people tried to save me. Like I said, it’s a bit creepy. But the bottom line is that I’m alive right now and mighty grateful. You’re all family to me. It’s a hard life out here. Yet we’re doing great. And I wanted to show my gratitude by bringing us together. So, I hope you all have a wonderful night. And may we always remember today as a time to be grateful for everything we have.”

“Amen to that,” said Preacher Harrison.

Many of the townsfolk clapped at Flint who hugged his children. And, for the first time in months, Amanda approached Flint without screaming at him. She had teary eyes as she walked over to him. She surprisingly kissed his lips, and though Flint hesitated he kissed her back. The townspeople smiled and clapped. Then the musicians played their music again, and the guests continued dancing.

“I’m sorry for being hard on you,” whispered Amanda.

“It’s really my fault,” said Flint. “Sometimes I act younger than Tommy and think I know everything, or that I can do anything I want.”

“You’re a stubborn man, Flint Cross,” she said, kissing him again.

“But a man you can’t get enough of,” he said.

“For now,” she said teasingly.

At that moment his stomach grumbled. He finally grabbed some meat and sat by a table with his wife, eating.

“How’s the food?” asked Amanda.

“It’s perfect,” he said. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad,” she said, rubbing Flint’s hand. “It’s a good thing you found that bear. All we had was bush tucker. Everyone eats that, so getting this meat really made a difference.”

Flint began to drift away when Amanda mentioned the bush tucker. He remembered what Browder had said to him: ‘I can help you remember everything, Commandant. But first you have to stop eating the greens—’ Then, instead of grabbing bush tucker from the bowl, he simply took another piece of bear steak.

“My trophy isn’t so bad now, is it?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t push your luck with me, mister,” she said sharply. “But I do admit that I’m happy you went hunting with Joey. By the way, how did Tommy do?”

“Honestly, I don’t think Tommy was ready,” he replied, swallowing a piece of meat. He noticed Amanda nod with a pretentious look on her face. There was nothing more he hated than her self-righteous attitude. “It’s not like he did anything wrong. It’s just—”

“He’s too young and nervous,” she said.

“I don’t think age has anything to do with it,” he said firmly. “But yes, he was nervous.” A part of him wanted to mention Sarah—her tomboyish interest to hunt; however, he wanted to keep seeing Amanda in a decent mood, so he kept quiet about her wanting to join him. “Well, I think it’s bedtime for me.”

“So soon?” she replied in a disappointed tone. “I guess I’ll stay here until our guests leave.” She gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “Hope you sleep well.”

“I will, thanks,” he said, walking away.

Flint bade his guests goodnight and returned to his home, going upstairs to sleep. When he entered his room he sat on his bed and leisurely took off his boots, hat, and holster. He blew out most of the candles and lay on his bed, tucking himself under the soft sheets. Worn out by the festival, he fell asleep in a matter of seconds.

The candles on Flint’s dresser started to melt rapidly. Meanwhile, the wallpaper withered and ripped apart, revealing prickled walls. The ceiling changed too, stalactite growing. Just then, water leaked down onto the floor. A shadowy figure swept across the room; yet Flint continued sleeping, unaware of the changes before him. Little by little, the furniture melted as if made of wax. Even the bed melted, lowering Flint to the now jagged floor. Within seconds, his bedroom turned into a cave. Waking up to this, he panicked and fell off what was left of his bed, onto the granite ground that had many puddles due to the dripping water.

“What the heck is this place?”

Flint looked for the door, noticing it had become a part of the cavern’s wall. When he turned to replace the window to escape this madness, he saw that it had become a large hole. He drooped through it, entering a faintly lit tunnel that led him to the exit. Leaving the cave, he stepped onto a lush grove. It was enclosed by an escarpment resembling the Kakadu wetlands of Australia. A waterfall wilted over Flint, flowing from the gargantuan canyon above.

“How the hell did I get here?”

Flint was flabbergasted by his surroundings. It felt so real to him. Yet the uncomfortable feelings within him brushed away when he spotted Hamarah. She was naked, swimming in the waterfall’s plunge pool. Flint no longer cared where he was; he dived into the water and swam over to her as if his life depended on it.

“I knew you’d come back to me,” she said.

He held her waist in the water, his hairy chest pressing against her breasts. “Hamarah,” he began, “where are we?” She kissed him without replying. Even though he kissed her back with delight, he still couldn’t accept what he was experiencing. “How is this possible? In dreams we never have control of what happens. Yet it feels so real here.”

“That’s because it is real,” she said.

Hamarah pushed back her long, wet black hair. She stared at Flint with her soft eyes and held him. He gently caressed her body in the water, feeling her every curve. It was too good to be true, he thought.

“And you’re real, too?” he asked.

“Of course I am,” she said. “There is only one thing that isn’t real, Ethan. Do you know what that is?”

Thinking about it for a while, he answered, “Desonas?”

Her face lit up as she said, “You must break free of that delusional town and rejoin me. There are only a few years left before the tribunal completes the gateway. Then the revolution will have been for nothing.”

“Revolution? Tribunal?” he said, confused. “Browder said something about a war before Joey killed him.”

Hamarah nodded.

“How can I replace you?”

She didn’t reply, making Flint feel anxious. He was frightened of waking up. In this eerie yet magical dream, he felt right at home. Old age didn’t weigh him down. And best of all, he was free of Amanda—no longer the slave he felt he’d become in Desonas.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I’ve always loved you.”

Finally accepting this wondrous experience, he closed his eyes and kissed her. The longer they kissed, the more they sank. She pulled Flint deep into the plunge pool, embracing him. To Flint, there wasn’t a better feeling than this. When he opened his eyes to gaze upon her beauty, she was gone; there was only darkness.

He awoke in his bed. The candles hadn’t melted. Amanda was sleeping soundlessly next to him. For a moment, Flint wanted to scream. It was just a dream; yet it felt as real as this very moment, he thought. These experiences didn’t make any sense to him.

Sadly for him, there was nothing he could do except continue sleeping. But this time it took him longer than ever to fall asleep again because he had so many questions plaguing his dreary mind—mostly about what Browder had told him, the strange stream of dreams that he’d been having lately, and his lost memories. He may have finally begun to remember a part of his past; however, there was still so much more to remember.