“Different plane of reality? What does that mean?” Isleen asked.
“The reason precognitive dreams are so hard to prove is because that different plane of reality only exists inside you. It’s not something any test can measure or any scientist can observe. Only you can access it and learn from it. Your physical body remains here, but your mind is operating in two places at the same time. When you wake up, the brain can’t handle the overload and shorts out—a seizure.”
She stared into Alex’s eyes, looking for even the slightest hint of humor, the joke, the punch line. Because if this wasn’t a joke, then he was serious and she was going to have to decide if he was crazy smart or just plain crazy.
“The seizure is the price for being psychic.”
Now she was leaning toward just plain crazy. “I’m not psychic.”
“During your waking hours, you are correct. But in the midst of a precognitive dream, you are being given access to insider information about another reality—which makes you psychic.”
Xander nodded his head as if he were receiving great understanding. “You’ve seen the interrogations. This is real.”
“You’ll need to spend a few nights at the Institute so we can measure and record your brain activity during the dream cycles. It would be groundbreaking to record a precog dream.”
“Is there a way to cure it?” she asked, her voice soft and steady.
“Cure it? Why would you want to make it go away? You have a powerful gift.”
“It doesn’t feel like a gift. The things I’ve seen…” She trailed off, not wanting to access those particular memories.
“An innocent little boy, his mother, and a woman just doing her job are alive today because of that dream you had. Would you trade their lives just so you didn’t have to experience that bad dream? How many other lives could your dreams save?”
That was a direct hit on her morality center. There was another way to look at her dreams. They weren’t just horrible things she had to witness. They were important—a means to save people. No way would she trade lives for the ability to not dream. She could never be so selfish.
“Do you remember the story of Fearless and Bear?” Alex asked.
Their story was the only part of yesterday that didn’t ache when she thought about it. “I remember.”
“I suspect you and Xander are a modern version of them.” He tossed that little bomb out there. Its detonation was quiet, but she felt the shock wave of it rock both her and Xander.
“You said it was your story.” Xander’s words were evenly spaced and perfectly clipped.
“It should have been. But now it’s yours to finish.” Alex’s face was all sober expression, and the way he sat in the chair leaning forward conveyed his earnestness. Isleen glanced at Xander, who bobbed his head as if Alex’s words struck a deep truth.
“You believe this?” Incredulity pushed her tone into the squeak range.
Xander turned his gaze to her, grim honesty shining in his eyes. “It makes sense. You see the similarities, right?”
The parallels between her and Fearless lined up nearly perfectly. Fearless had been kidnapped by the Bad Ones. Isleen had Queen. Bear had found and saved Fearless. Isleen had Xander. Fearless discovered she was gifted with dream sight. Isleen had precognitive dreams.
What about hard facts and truth? They had proof her dreams could save lives—okay, she could buy in to that. But the story of Fearless and Bear was fiction. Oh, she wanted to believe it, only because she wanted Xander to be her destiny. But wanting a thing didn’t make it happen.
“You wanna know the real kick in the ass?” Xander nabbed her hand. “The totem Bear carving sits on top of the next hill over. That fucking close this entire time, and I never really knew what it was until yesterday.”
“I want to go see it sometime.”
“I know. Me too. Kinda takes on a whole new meaning now.” His words were filled with unquestioning belief in this.
Alex cleared his throat. “When Gale left—”
“Jesus fucking Christ. Time to leave. I don’t want to hear—”