Dream a Little Dream. Megan Hart

      * * *

      “Well, hello,” the woman said, looking him up and down. It was the same woman, he was convinced of that, though tonight her platinum-blond hair tumbled in curls to her shoulders, and her blue eyes had gone dark. “Fancy meeting you here.”

      Butler tripped forward onto a smooth span of black sand. He caught himself, looking down, certain he’d find himself naked and mortified, but he wore a pair of jeans, low on his hips. Bare feet. Bare chest. No belt!

      That’s how he knew he was dreaming, for sure.

      “This is a dream,” he said aloud but to himself.

      The woman’s eyebrows rose. “Yes. You know that?”

      “Well...” He passed a hand in front of his eyes, slowly, half expecting to see something like trails of light following the movement. But nope, just a hand. He looked at her. “It is, isn’t it?”

      “You know the best way to tell?”

      “How?” He looked around at the black sand, the dark purple sea. The sky overhead looked weird, too. But, unlike the night before, nothing here felt scary.

      She laughed and held out her wrist, where she wore an old-fashioned watch. “See if you can tell the time.”

      “I learned how to tell time in kindergarten.”

      “See if you can,” she repeated softly.

      Butler looked. The watch looked okay. The numbers, the hands, the glass face. And yet...something was off. He tried to look at the hour hand, but it went wobbly and wiggled. The minute hand spun. He looked at her. “What?”

      “You can almost never tell time in dreams. Or read,” she added. “If you’re ever worried about whether or not you’re dreaming, try to read something. You’re Butler.”

      So it was the same woman. “You remembered me.”

      “How could I forget?”

      They stared at each other, silent and assessing.

      “Why would I ever worry about if I’m dreaming or not?” Butler asked, wishing he were smoother. That he had a line of some kind. Did he need one, in a dream?

      She laughed. “You never know.”

      “This is a dream,” Butler repeated, looking around, then again at her. “And here you are. Again.”

      “Here I am,” she agreed with a slow smile.

      He returned it. “Hi.”

      “Hi,” she said. “So. What do you want to do?”

      “I get to choose?”

      “It’s a dream,” she pointed out, moving closer. “And now that you know it, sure. You can choose. You can shape it, if you try.”

      The woman made an expansive gesture, and a breeze followed that kicked up the sand. In front of them, the beach became a patch of lush green grass dotted with crimson and yellow flowers. In the center of it, a four-poster bed made up with plenty of pillows and hung with gauzy curtains appeared.

      Startled, Butler took a step or two toward it. Over his shoulder, he looked for the ocean that had been there seconds ago, but saw more grass and flowers. He looked at her.

      “Did you do that?”

      “Yes.” She looked him up and down again. “Butler, don’t you want to kiss me? You don’t even have to wait until we’ve escaped from a monster, and I promise you, that bed is a lot more comfortable than the cave.”

      He shivered, not chilled but feeling quivery inside just the same. “I don’t even know you.”