These dreams

Hey there! It’s been about two weeks, so I won’t bore you much. I’ve had a stressful couple of weeks between job hunting and putting up with the “seminars” for the Workforce Development Department. Oy. Less said the better about that.

Anyway, instead of going back to Robbie and Deb, who have been a bit scarce in my brain, here’s a new “Adventure, Inc.” story. Yeah, decided on a name. At least until someone tells me that’s taken :)

Enjoy!

        


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        The Mona Lisa, a person being shot in the head, a swarm of ants, lines of marching toys, over and over. A scream, then darkness.

        Alana Sherwood woke up, drenched in sweat and breathing heavy. This was the third night in a row with this same dream. She hugged her knees to her chest and rested her forehead on them. She hated these dreams. Especially if these were THOSE kind of dreams. She didn't get these weird dreams often, but when she did, they often meant something.

        She glanced over at the clock. 3:00am. "Great," she muttered. She knew from experience she wouldn't get back to sleep after that. Sighing, she rolled out of bed and took a shower, washing the sweat off. She leaned against the wall and let the water pound on her back.

        It wasn't often that she felt out of her element. Educated in England, graduated from Cambridge at sixteen with three degrees, she was fairly brilliant. She came to work with Buck due to her parents thinking it would be a great way to advance her education. They were right, but not quite in the way they imagined. She's seen more happen in the last three years than most people, so much so that she'd decided that she would stay, no matter what her parents thought.

        Of course it wasn't all about the adventure. There was Jeremy.

        Jeremy. He was dense. She was sure he barely noticed her but for her brain. Oh, they were friends, colleagues, all of that, but just once, she'd like him to notice she was a woman. But then, he was two years younger than her, and quite enamored of his robots and vehicles.

        She shook herself, letting that train of thought go. She didn't like getting frustrated, and thinking too much of him did that. If it would happen, it would happen. Beyond that.

        She finished her shower and got out. She dried off, rolled her hair up into a towel and wrapped her self in her favorite fluffy robe. She dropped down into her chair and stared into space, trying to sort through what was all in the dream.

        "This isn't working," she said out loud. She had to laugh to herself. Three degrees. Psychology, sociology, and history, and she can't make sense of a silly dream. She scooped up the television remote and flipped through the channels, not really looking for anything to watch, but just to help clear her mind.

        It took her a moment to register what she had seen. She flipped back to a twenty-four hour news channel, where a very bizarre scene was playing out. Lines and lines of toy soldiers and robots were marching through the streets of downtown Chicago.
        

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