• There was a distinct bright light in the central area of this underground platform. It was fenced by brown metallic railings that reflected fractions of glimmering color prisms into the seemingly empty parking lot. Just for the moment I had a bird's eye view of the squareness to that lot. The typical nature was daughting. The design was simply one square placed inside a larger square.

    Next thing I knew I was kneeling, facing downward, looking at a single parking line. There was a turquoise car to the left of me. I instinctively felt a presence near; looking in that direction, there was an invisible man dressed in a feathered top hat and tuxedo with pin stripes. From where its mouth would be, hung a dwindling cigarette and its radiating embers. He too seemed to be hiding between cars. I guess that's why I was positioned in such a manner. Oddly, I didn't feel the least bit fearful of what was apparently going on. The only emotion I can recall having was how anxious I was to piece together what was going on.

    Then it appeared beside me. The invisible man reached out and took hold of my shoulder. "I am sorry for getting you into this mess." It said in a quiet raspy voice. I could only look at him with a befuddled stare. It would go on to repeat the message two more times, but each was phrased subtly different. My eyes disengaged contact with its fiery cig, which was now just about to the butt. Out of my peripheral was a mysterious purple-greenish cloud, that had looked as if it came down from the cosmos. Unlike the invisible man, in this strange lot entity I sensed evil. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. This was something that wasn't for my eyes.

    Staring at this 'thing' long enough -- I began to envision my sister. The light filled central area changed into a room without walls. I was able to see inside my sister was in bed with her eyes closed hooked to an IV. Her X-Rays have showed an apparent darkening under her left molar. Immediately I figured it was a tumor.

    “Chadricks, Chadricks, are you all right?” says a feminine voice

    My eyes re-acclimated themselves to the daylight. Lately these dreams have been feeling more authentic. Should I come to terms with the notion that I maybe losing grip with reality? My sister who's 11...No wait, I don't have a sister. Never have. At least that's what I've been told. Memory has never been associated with being reliable. Constantly we throw in projections of our own. Thus, our mind recalls what it wants. My gripes with my own mind, is if I have trouble distinguishing reality, then what am I conceiving as real? The dream I just had, had to have been a dream because of the unrealistic nature. But why do I have this strong feeling that I'm missing apart of my memory and that it has been overwritten by memory that's not my own?