verywhere Marty looked something unusual caught her eye. Apparently, she was in what someone might call an antique shop, but really was more of junk store.

A fine layer of dust covered everything and every surface was packed and stacked with an odd assortment of collectibles. Oddly enough just about everything she saw was something she'd seen or desired at some time in her life. On her left was a set of bongos with a mandolin hanging above them, and an old Super 8 movie camera resting precariously on top of everything.

Going further into the store, Marty noticed a counter and a cash register set in the center of the room surrounded by a square of glass jewelry cases filled with an array of colorful watches, dangling earrings and really cool necklaces. Two champagne flutes sat on the counter in front of her, with bubbles still rising to the top. Smiling Marty picked up one of the glasses and raised it to her lips.

"Aren't you going to wait for me?" Even now, the voice could make Marty melt into a puddle on the steps. She turned around and found herself staring into Christine's beautiful brown eyes.

"It worked," Marty whispered in awe. "It really worked."

Chris laughed, which was the second sexiest thing about her. She picked the other glass of champagne up off the counter and raised it towards Marty in a toast. "Of course it worked," Chris said. "I told you it would." She wrapped her arms around Marty and buried her lips in her neck. "Don't you trust me?"

"I completely trust you," Marty said. That trust was the only reason Marty agreed to this little experiment because the two of them were not standing in an antique shop sipping champagne and toasting one another's good health. Marty was at home in her bed sound asleep and presumably, Chris was at home in her bed. She'd have to be if they were both here.

"Can I control this dream?" Marty asked.

Chris' grin was downright wicked, "If you could control this dream why are we still here in this room?"

Without the wavy lines or segues of any kind, they were in another room and Marty ripped the clothes off Chris in a display of passionate panic. This was not how she fantasized their first time would be. This was down and dirty. Marty wanted romance and passion. However, Chris didn't seem to mind and before Marty realized what was happening, it was over.

Instead of feeling loved and satisfied, she felt cheap and dirty. Instead of the bedroom lit with soft muted candles, they were inside one of the jewelry cases in the original antique store with shoppers wandering all around. It felt cold and exposed. Marty looked for a blanket to cover them but couldn't find one.

She tried to apologize. "I'm sorry, that is not what I..."

Chris put her fingers up to Marty's lips. "Shh. We can try again tomorrow night."

A few minutes later Marty turned on the lamp beside her bed and reached for the pad and pencil on the nightstand.

he next day she carried that same pad to Chris' office. While she waited for Chris to finish with her previous client she fidgeted nervously. Finally, Chris came out and escorted Marty into her office. Instead of taking a seat, Marty tossed the book down on the chair and started pacing. "Were you really there?" she demanded.

Chris smiled in her smug little way, "What do you think?"

"I think I hate it when you do that!" Marty screamed. "You tell me you love me. You tell me in another place and time we could have been together. You give me the fucking book on lucid dreaming and then tell me exactly how to get to the place where you are at! Just once! Answer the fucking question!"

"There are things none of us understand in this world and if both of us wanted to be there badly enough, then who is to say we weren't?" That was as good an answer as Marty was going to get.

She collapsed in the chair and began describing the dream in great detail, referring to the book when her memory failed her. A short time later Chris glanced at her watch, "Same time next week?"