The Prophecy Machine

41

She dreamed about the sea. It was not a sea she'd ever seen, not the sea they'd crossed, the sea that had brought them to this strange and deadly land. This was a sea that had likely never been, the kind that lives in dreams.

The sea was jeweled, a thousand shades of green, a million shades of blue. Sapphires, emeralds and lapis lazuli had melted when the earth was very young, and formed this tranquil deep so she could share its beauty now.

How could she have such a dream? She had never ventured anywhere at all. She had never heard a tale of such a place, or seen such an image anywhere. Yet, it was there, as real as it could be …

… And, with a surety, the sudden awareness that only a dream can bring, she knew in that instant that she'd sailed upon this sea, knew the fierce, exotic creatures that lived upon its shores, knew the colors, knew the tastes, knew the scents of its streets, of its alleys, of the bright marketplace.

One thing more she knew, and this the most startling of all: she had been there for certain, but not in the form she was now. For what she was now, she had never been before …

This wonder, this marvel, opened a thousand secret doors. Everything she'd done, everything she'd been, every life she'd lived, struck her at once and filled her head with visions she could scarcely comprehend.

She could have shouted, laughed aloud at these countless images of joy, sorrow, love and hate and fear, these illusions of the past. She could, for certain, if only she could find herself now, if only she was somewhere, someone, anyone at all …