Waking early, I got up, washed, dressed and headed to the library. After a couple of hours’ attempted insight into the secrets of hyper Euclidean geometry I went to the White Hart coffee shop on campus for a cup of coffee and some company other than the books. Watching the heated and slightly nervous crowd of young students served as a reminder of how distant I felt. Miscatonic University offered all the traditional science and liberal arts courses of major universities, but her specialities were psychology, parapsychology and studies in comparative anthropology and religion associated with the latter. The university produced a small but steady stream of parapsychologists and investigators of paranormal phenomena and was famous for it.

The special courses attracted dedicated and industrious students who were allowed to decide the direction of their graduate education very much according to their personal interests and ambitions. Thus, the students of parapsychology were known to have a high degree of personal initiative and a solid work ethic. But they were nevertheless usually regarded with suspicion and dislike among the other students. Parapsychology naturally attracted students who were interested in the stranger and darker sides of existence, which most people shunned or regarded with fear and disbelief. Thus, the parapsychology students kept mostly to themselves and few were a part of the university in crowd. Some notable exceptions were my room mate Seifer Almasy and Irvine Kinneas across the hall. They were both popular among a large group of students arranging cross faculty parties, initiation rituals of freshmen and leisure trips the countryside. I usually stayed away from the brouhaha of such gatherings, preferring to study and explore the local paranormal history of the town and area on my own.

Taking in the breakfast crowd with little more than a cursory interest, I drank my coffee and then began fighting my way through the throng to reach the door. But before getting that far, I heard someone call my name.

“Squall! Squall!” I turned towards the direction of the call. Selphie Tilmitt, one of Kinneas’s many admirers and one of the few whose interest he seemed to reciprocate, stretched out one thin arm and waved at me. Tilmitt was one of those people who was in a perpetually good mood no matter what happened and seemed to regard everyone with an openness and gentleness I couldn’t but wonder where came from. Her temper and personality clashed oddly with her chosen study; comparative religion at the faculty of Parapsychology, and her true interest; the history of magic and witchcraft. Kinneas had once mentioned she had pulled off some interesting tricks for him, but when I asked for more details, he had grown uncharacteristically quiet. Since then I had tried to fish more information about Selphie’s “tricks” from Kinneas, but he always seemed to avoid the subject. I wondered what Tilmitt had done to scare someone as sceptical and down to earth as Kinneas.

Tilmitt was accompanied by her close friends, a small crowd of female students which she was seldomly seen without; Quistis Trepe, master graduate mathematician at the faculty and teaching fellow with Prof. Mapster, Rinoa Caraway, student of comparative anthropology at the faculty of Parapsychology and Xu Yie, student of chemistry at the Institute of Chemistry. It was rumored that Caraway’s father was a high ranking officer out of Boston and that Trepe’s family had ties with the Rockefellers in New York, but I had no idea if any of those rumors were true. None of the girls were personal friends but students I had come to meet on many occasions due to their studentship at the faculty and familiarity with Kinneas and Almasy.

“Hi Squall,” Selphie greeted as I managed to get over to her and her friends. I nodded at them. Caraway exchanged glances with Quistis and smiled. “Hi Squall!” they greeted and grinned at each other, obviously humored by my presence.

“I’m rather in a hurry,” I told them, eager to leave the crowded hot room and the giggling girls. “My final’s in two days and I’m really behind schedule.” More female giggling. Selphie took hold of my arm.

“We’re not going keep you for long. It’s just that Irvine told me you had found something interesting last night and was going to have a look at it in the chem lab this afternoon. We wondered if we could come too.” Oh no, I thought. Kinneas and his big mouth. I should have known he would broadcast the meeting at the laboratory to all of his friends. I was glad I had been short on detail last night.

“There’s probably not much to see at all,” I tried. Tilmitt tugged at my sleeve and did a little curtsy of eagerness.

“Pleeeeaaase, Leonheart,” she begged. “It’s been so long since something interesting has happened here. Seems like all we have done the last three weeks is cram cram cram and I’m so sick of it. It’s no fun when it gets that much.” Tilmitt smoothed down the front of her yellow dress and looked at me.

“All right,” I said, suspecting resistance was pointless. “As long as you don’t get in my way. Be at the chem lab at 2 pm. And don’t bring anyone else, ok?”

“Thank you, thank you!” Selphie exclaimed and threw herself around my neck to give me a hug. “You’re the best! A moment away from the boring cramming, I can’t wait!” I gently freed myslef from her grip.

“Well, I’ll see you there then. I have some more work to do before 2 o’clock.”

“Irvine told us someone had tried to get into your room and then fell down from the window, “ Quistis said. “Who was it ?”

“I honestly don’t know,” I told her. Tilmitt giggled.

“I bet it was Seifer trying to get back in after curfew.”

“Maybe,” I shrugged, not wanting to reveal any more details of what had happened last night.

“Where has he been lately?” Caraway asked. I looked at her.

“I assumed he was with you,” I told her. She shook her head.

“No, I haven’t seen him since last Friday.” I scratched my head.

“I have no idea where he might be then. He’s left no message in our room.” Caraway exchanged another glance with Trepe and Tilmitt, this time one of concern. “Well, I have to run,” I told them and began heading for the door once more. “See you at 2 pm. And don’t spread the word.” The girls nodded.

“See you.”

Returning to the warm library and the long rows of bookshelves and green shaded brass lamps, I enjoyed the relative quiet and the absorbing power of hyper Euclidean theory. But it didn’t take much time before I was stuck at a particularly difficult problem which I wasn’t able to solve. I decided to ask Trepe for help with it later in the afternoon. Exchanging hyper Euclidean geometry with classical Greek and Egyptian theory on Atlantis and Lemuria, some of my favorite myths, I settled down into one of the library’s easy chairs and began reading. The room, although spacious and ventilated, was stuffy and warm and I soon felt my eyelids grow heavy and my chin bobbing towards my chest.

There were a pair of stone stairs leading down. Gingerly, I stepped onto the stairs and began following them as they spiraled downwards. I passed some narrow Gothic windows filled with sunlight. Then there was a wooden door with a heavy brass knob shaped like a lion’s head. I used the lion’s head to open the door and stepped outside. The sound of seagulls and water lapping against land. I walked out of the tower and out onto a long stone pier. Tall ships from every imaginable nationality and era, from seventeenth century galleons to Egyptian straw barges to blue eyed Phoenician wooden ships lay at the pier. The ships seemed to be either in the process of having their cargo unloaded or being restocked with goods and supplies for the next trip across the ocean. I approached a white ship with lemon colored sails. On an impulse, I crossed the gangway to enter the ship and handed seven golden coins to the bearded and turbaned men standing by the helm. They bowed and bade me welcome. There was something strange with the way they moved and there was an odd glint in their dark eyes, but the ocean breeze flapped gayly through the yellow sails and made me forget any suspicions or fears.

Finally the ship disembarked accompanied by a short fanfare of a sea conch by one of the turbaned men. The ship slowly gained speed and left the harbor. I looked back and saw the white washed stone buildings and rounded domes of a Greek port. The sky was bright blue and there was hardly a cloud in the sky, a gentle ocean breeze made the temperature near ideal.

Days passed. I was relieved to be out of Miscatonic valley and its oppressive summer heat. The ocean seemed endless. The sails and ship creaked in the gentle movements. I didn’t know where the ship was bound, but that seemed to matter less. I enjoyed the freedom of the impromptu trip. But one afternoon, the sky grew dark and the ocean restless. White foam appeared on the waves and the boat, now seeming hopelessly small on the endless ocean, bobbed up and down on the angered element. Soon the wind howled and the lemon sails strained against the storm. A horrible tearing noise and the entire ship shook. The main mast now broken in the middle and the storm gathering momentum. Several of the turbaned men crawled out onto the broken mast in the icy wind and raging sea to try and prevent what was left of the main sail to overturn the ship. They all perished in the wind and the waves and now the ship was adrift. No anchor and no sail and the night was black and starless and there seemed to be no end to the storm. A sudden wave overturned the ship, and all travelers and crew ended up in the freezing ocean.

Giving up relatively quickly, my swimming abilities no match for the raging sea, I sank beneath the surface. The cold water burned my face and hands and ears and taking the initiative out of all planned motion. Everything turned black, there was no light reaching these depths. I fell and fell through the darkness. Right before exchanging my last breath for cold water, I spotted a faint green glow through the darkness. An outline of something resembling the skyline of a city appeared in front of me. I marveled at the sight. A sunken city?

“Squall! Squall! Wake up!” Ignoring the call, I rushed up from the chair, fell down onto the warm wooden floor, coughing violently. Heaving and twisting, I worked to rid my lungs of water while at the same time trying to draw some air into them. My mouth was filled with the taste of brine. When the torrent of coughing finally passed I struggled to my feet.

“Jesus almighty, are you all right?” Kinneas queried with a concerned look on his face. I took a deep breath and nodded.

“You’re drenched!” Tilmitt said and pulled a handkerchief out of one dress pocket, holding the handkerchief out to me.

“Thanks,” I said and took the offered item. The inside of my shirt was soaked with sweat as were my hair and face. The air felt almost impossible to breathe. I began wiping my face and brow with the handkerchief.

“I need some air,” I said and began moving.

Outside on the front stairs, a gentle afternoon breeze had started up, but the air was as warm as inside. It felt like standing in front of a heater. I went over to the water fountain and put my head under the slow trickle of water.

“Umm, you’re not supposed to do that,” Tilmitt reminded me. “It’s for drinking only.” I didn’t reply and continued drenching my head and hair and neck. The water felt wonderfully cooling even after the chill of the dream. I could breathe again.

“What on earth happened?” Kinneas asked. I looked up at him.

“A dream,” I said, straightening. “Just a dream.” Kinneas’s brows drew together in a strained line above his eyes.

“Just a dream? You looked as if you were drowning.”

“Exactly,” I told him. “I dreamed I was drowning.” I wiped drops of water from my face.

“But you were coughing up water when you woke up!” Tilmitt insisted with a quick downward motion of her hands.

“I did?” I asked innocently. Tilmitt looked at Kinneas for confirmation. He nodded.

“Yes, you did.”

“It was a strange dream,” I said, setting my eyes on the yellowish blue sky behind them. Was there no end to the heatwave? When would we get some rain to clear the humid air? “I think it was a case of a dream reality shift. I’ve never experienced that before, so I’m not sure of course.”

“Dream reality shift?” Tilmitt asked, obviously not recognizing the term from the first year. I nodded.

“Reality intruding onto dreams,” I said. “Strange event but has been described by other workers. I will have to look it up in the library later on.” The thought of returning to the stuffy air of the library didn’t seem tempting right then and there.

“Really?” Kinneas asked, eyes shining. “Which reality? Ours?”

“I don’t think so. It seemed more like a mythical one. Tall ships and a strange trading port. I had been reading about Atlantis and Lemuria before I fell asleep, so maybe it was caused by that.”

“I say…” Kinneas commented. “That’s something.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said. “It was just a dream. Most probably brought on by the reading.” I looked at them. “What time is it? I need to be at the chem lab by 2.”

“That’s what we came to get you for,” Selphie said. “It’s half past already. Quistis, Rinoa, Zell and Xu are waiting at the lab. Xu secured the keys from teaching assistant Johnstone.”

“Ok, let’s go.”

Outside the chemistry lab, Quistis, Yie, Caraway, Dincht and teaching assistant Johnston were waiting for us. As we arrived, Johnstone turned to me.

“Is it you Leonheart who wants off course access to the lab?” she asked. I nodded. “And what kind of experiments do you plan to conduct?”

“Just some simple tissue tests, if it’s ok,” I asked. Johnstone looked at me sceptically.

“I’m not sure if I’m going to let you in. I’m responsible for the chem lab in Prof. West’s absence. Bossman is not going to like it if there is a problem and I have let you in without his permission.”

“Well, I’m going to be working here all summer at any rate,” Yie said. “I can take responsibility for the access. We can call it pre investigations for my summer project. I already know what I want to do, so I don’t need to do that many tests. I can sign the log if you want.”

Teaching assistent Johnston nodded.

“Ok,” she said. “I’ll buy that. Sign the log and I’ll explain to bossman you wanted a head start if he asks. Just don’t let him see Leonheart and the others in there. Bossman will be back at around 6, so you’ve got a few hours to spend. What kind of tissue are you going to test?” she asked.

“Not sure yet,” I replied. “But it may be ghoul tissue. I just want to make sure.” Johnstone made a quick glance into the ceiling.

“I hope you parapsych students know what you’re doing,” she said before leaving. “It’s all in your hands, Xu.”

“I know. Thanks,” Yie said.

The chemistry lab was rows upon rows of lab benches, each having a deep basin with a faucet, a small cuboard underneath and a rag hanging by the side of the bench. Tall stools now placed upside down on each bench provided seats during the lab courses. The back wall of the long and narrow room held cupboards filled with beakers, funnels, measuring cylinders, thermometers, distillation equipment, bunsen burners and chemicals, liquid and dry. The air was stuffy and almost immobile after weeks of emptiness, dust danced in the afternoon light coming in from the long windows.

I carefully unwrapped the dry leaves I had brought and reconstituted the grey material into a glass beaker by pouring a thin stream of distilled water over them. I picked up some more beakers from the cupboards along with the necessary chemicals. A quick acid-base titration and comparison from a chart on a hand written note, the species tissue acidity matching that of “ghoul”; supernatural eater of the dead, haunters of cemeteries and places of storage of dead bodies and not alive in the usual sense themselves either. I let Yie do a test with identical result. Then it was 5.30 pm and time to leave.

“Let’s go for supper everyone!” Tilmitt suggested as we headed out of the lab. “The White Hart offers grilled cheese sandwhiches, pasta ravioli and mushroom pizza today. And raspberry sorbet or chocolate cake for dessert with free coffee.”

“Good idea,” Dincht said. “I’m starved by watching you guys work.” Yie locked the lab door and then we were on our way. The talk was eager and upbeat now that an interesting result had arrived at and supper had been decided upon. I tried to quell the slight concern I was feeling. It would soon be dark.

“Well. I’ll see you later,” I said.

“What?” Tilmitt asked. “Where are you going?”

“Not coming with us?” Kinneas asked. “Why not Leonheart? Come on, it’ll be fun and the food is good.” About to serve him one of my usual I-need-to-work lies, I was taken with a momentary lapse of truthfulness.

“I can’t afford it,” I said. “I don’t have any money until I get first payment of my summer job next month.”

“That’s ok,” Dincht said. “I owe you something for letting me copy your lecture notes in Prof. DeGougnier’s class all semester. It’s on me.” I shook my head.

“That’s very kind of you, Dincht, but I can’t accept it. I would have gone to the lectures at any rate.”

“Regard it as a small loan, then,” Dincht said and tugged at my sleeve. “Come on, it’s time to get something to eat.” Humiliated but hungry, I relented.

On the way across campus, amid talk of the possible ghoul roaming the university grounds and the exam parties planned, Caraway nudged my hand.

“Heard anything from Seifer yet?” she asked. I shook my head.

“No, I’m sorry. But he may be in the dorms sleeping. I haven’t been there today.”

“Oh. I’ll check later. Thanks.” Rinoa looked down.

“I’ll let him know you wish to see him when he returns...” I began but was interrupted by a fear I did not want to acknowledge, half formed in my mind, like a forgotten word coming into memory. Quickly pushing it aside, I shook my head. Rinoa looked at me.

“Is something the matter, Squall?”

“No… nothing.” I felt the palms of my hands go slick.

“What… what color is Seifer’s wristwatch, by the way? Do you know?”

“Pardon?” Rinoa asked. “What colors is Seifer’s what?”

“The leather strap on Almasy’s wristwatch.”

“Off white, I think,” Rinoa replied. “Why ?”

“… I think I saw his watch in the room,” I said quickly. “He was looking for it the last time I saw him. I’ll take care of it until he comes back.”

Through a haze of confusion, I saw Rinoa smile at me. In another situation I would have tried conversing with her some more, but I was too distracted. My head was starting to hurt. If this was correct, who could I possibly turn to? No one would believe me. Perhaps with the exception of Prof. West. I would try talk with him. But to present any kind of problem to him, I would need more evidence. I decided to hope Almasy would have returned when I came back to the dorms after supper. But how many people wore off white leather wristwatch straps?

At the White Hart, meal was ordered and served. I passively let Dincht pay for me as he had offered and left it at that. My head was hurting and my thoughts were racing, robbing me of initiative and personal pride. The conversation turned to discussions of what questions could be expected at the exams and whether or not people had done the necessary preparations if the expected questions came up. I was hungry but apart from feeling the fatigue that had weighed me down the last weeks loosening its grip, I found little pleasure in the rich meal and the conversation did nothing to reassure me of my own problems. After supper, I quickly excused myself and picked up my bag and jacket. The restaurant was beginning to grow uncomfortably hot and the noise of the supper crowd was bothering my ears and aching head. I thanked Dincht for the meal, promising to pay him back at the end of next month when my wages arrived.

“Going back to the dorms?” Kinneas asked. I nodded. “All right,” he said. “I’m going back too, got to take it easy tonight, tomorrow is a big day, second but last final exam. I need my beauty sleep.” He grinned and grabbed his jacket.

“See you tomorrow,” Tilmitt said. “You have to tell me how it went.”

“I’ll talk your ears full,” Kinneas said and grinned.

“Bye-bye.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Kinneas walked next to me. I rubbed my eyes. The sun was sitting at the horizon but the evening breeze which the valley usually saw was absent.

“Is everything all right with you?” Irvine asked. I nodded.

“Yes it is.” Silence. The sound of gravel beneath our shoes.

“Excuse me for asking, but.. what happened at the library?” I looked at him.

“Like I said, a dream crossing with reality, and turning into reality, a kind of dream reality.”

“But what causes such dreams?” he asked. I shrugged.

“Nobody knows for certain I think. Dr. Carter describes it in his work. I think I have seen a few others mention it too, Comte d’Erlette among a few, but no one seems to be able to offer a good explanation for it. Maybe it’s just the time of the year and the exams and the heat,” I suggested. Irvine nodded and didn’t say anything more. We continued on to the dorms, entered the shady hall and began climbing the stairs. At our doors, we stopped.

“Well, if you need anything, just knock at our door. Zell and I are right here in case.. well, you know, in case the intruder comes back or you have another one of those drowning dreams.” I nodded.

“Not likely. Cross reality dreams only happen once, maximum twice in a person’s life time. Same with burglars I suppose. I guess I was really unlucky. But thanks. I might need some advice for the geometry on Thursday.”

“My pleasure,” Kinneas commented with a grin. “Let’s meet here tomorrow at 1 pm to do the last reviews. Quistis may be able to give us a few tips too if we go to her office.”

“Ok, tomorrow at 1 pm then. See you.”

“See you.”

When the door had shut behind me, I set my bag on the floor, went into the bathroom, filled my glass with water from the faucet and began searching the top shelf of the bathroom cupboard for the sachet of aspirin I hoped was there. “Please let there be one left,” I muttered. There was. Relieved, I ripped off the top of the sachet and dumped the contents into the glass, swirled the powder a few times to let it dissolve and downed the water in a few hasty gulps.

Sitting down on my bed, I removed the tie and shirt, intending to sleep a few hours before returning to my studies. I grabbed Almasy’s alarm clock from the opposite bedstand, wound it and set the alarm at 3 am. I hoped the headache would disappear after some sleep. Then I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes.