

The Destiny Dream

by

Terri Dixon

(Nina Kindred)

The Destiny Dream
Part I

"I don't think we spend enough time in silence, just realizing what's floating around in our noggin."

-Sandra Bullock

There comes a point in life when you slow down enough to reflect, and share the parts of your life that make you who you are. I've written many things, but I never wrote the story of my earlier life. My family asks me questions regularly, so it's time to tell my story. Don't worry if it sounds a little odd. I find it odd too, to say the least. Bear with me, and pay attention. It's a one of a kind story.

My name is Sandy Jones. My appearance is every bit as forgettable as my name. I'm 5'5'' tall. I have straight brown hair; dirt brown with no bangs. My mom always called it Sandy blonde to explain my name, even though my full name is Cassandra Marie. My hair is not too long or too short, and normally pulled back in a ponytail. I don't have piercings, except in my ears and I have no tattoos to this day. I come from other boring working folk who lived in the middle of nowhere in Indiana. My life had been nothing to speak of up until a day in 1984, when I decided to become unforgettable. I had nothing going in the appearance category and I had no money, so I had to rely on my brains and questionable personality to make me something more than bland and Midwestern.

I had a life as a child, but that isn't what I wish to tell. To be honest, I don't care to reflect on a whole lot of my childhood life chapter. I missed a lot of childhood by being an adult. By the time I was an adult, I was cynical, dispassionate, dull, and had no ambition left over from what should have been my childhood. All of that was stolen from me, because I had to take care of myself.

By the time I graduated high school, I just wanted to run away. I never would have done that of course, because the people in my life had convinced me that I couldn't live on my own. Why I believed this, I don't know. I was the one who took care of everything. They just didn't want to lose their housekeeper/laundress/cook/gardener/accountant/extra income.

If I'd known then what I know now, I would have run away immediately on my 18th birthday. I would have run as far and as fast as I could, but that's never been my way. I have to learn my lessons the hard way.

Therefore, July, 1984 was the real beginning of my journey. I'd had my own apartment with a roommate for a while, but moved home because I hated said roommate. I'd been working in a factory for about a year. I'd been to Connecticut the year before immediately following my high school graduation, but that time I hadn't been driving my own car and going on my first paid vacation ever. At that point in 1984, I was destined for a great adventure. I was sure.

I took off in my brown, two door, 1977 Chrysler LeBaron with a tan Landau roof. I had a battery operated boom box on the front seat next to me, because my car stereo only picked up AM radio, and only when it was in the mood to. My windshield wipers were wired on, because I couldn't find the part to fix them anywhere. I had extra quarts of oil and extra anti freeze, transmission fluid, and brake fluid to counterbalance my car's many random fluid leaks. I had my clothes, my cassette tapes, orange soda, and M & M's. I was ready for my first road trip. I had everything but a map. I hate maps.

How hard could it be? Drive from my hometown, North Manchester, Indiana to Fort Wayne. Take a left onto North I-69 to Angola. Take a right onto the East I-80/I-90 toll road and go to Youngstown, Ohio. Get off the toll road but stay on I-80 East and go to I-81 North, around Hazelton, Pennsylvania. Take I-81 North to Scranton, and get on I-84 East to New England. Follow that to New Britain. Get off at the exit for Farmington Avenue, Berlin, Connecticut. My cousin Anne would be waiting for me there to take me to her house, where I would stay for the week with her, my Aunt Ruby and Ruby's husband, Sal. Anne was going to be my hostess and tour guide. I was about to drive 1,200 miles. I could stop anywhere I wanted to sleep. The world was my oyster, and I was free for the first time in my life.

I hit the road and hit it hard. I didn't wait until morning. I left at 5 p.m. directly after work. I loved to drive. I loved to visit my half brother's place in Chicago on the weekends, or sneak over to Windsor, Ontario and go clubbing with my friends. Cruising the Goshen strip in Northern Indiana was the teenage, not old enough to drink, thing to do, and I went as often as I could. I couldn't get enough of road trips, and this was the ultimate one to me at 19 years old. 1,200 miles of open road for me to explore by myself.

At first, it was familiar and boring. Ohio, for the most part, looked like Indiana. Miles and miles of four-lane superhighway, so straight that I knew it was the birthplace of the cruise control. I had a bizarre feeling that, if I let go of the wheel, the car would keep going perfectly down the surreally straight road. The only interruptions, if you could call them that, were the giant cloverleaf exit ramps.

So it went. The only indication that I wasn't traveling the same stretch of road over and over again were the different numbers on the various exit signs. Hours and hours of sameness went by, and I loved it. I changed my cassette tapes, sang along with them, and enjoyed my complete and total freedom. Looking back, I realize how precious that feeling was. The older I get, the less frequently I have that feeling. In middle age I've noticed that most people wish to cure me of it, like it's a disease. I've learned that they can't kill my spirit unless they can control my mind. If I had a dime for each person throughout the course of my life who tried to kill my dreams and break my spirit, I would have more money than Bill Gates.

By nightfall the terrain started to change a little. I encountered some slight inclines and an intermittent view of Lake Eerie between Sandusky and Cleveland. By the time I got used to the slight change, I was in Cleveland. All of a sudden, it felt like I was driving in Chicago. There was traffic everywhere and planes flying low overhead. My mind was alive, and I was excited at all the new scenery.

Shortly after dark, I left Cleveland, bound for Youngstown where the bridge is. Just outside of Youngstown, there's a steel bridge high above the highway. It's the kind of arched steel bridge you see on TV commercials and in pictures of New River Gorge, West Virginia. That was the first time I'd traveled that path, but it certainly would not be the last. Over the years that bridge became the point in that route that I called the gateway to the East or the Midwest, depending on which way I was traveling at the time. St. Louis has its Arch, and I have the Old Route 8 bridge. It's long since been a sign of many things for me. Freedom was only the first thing that it represented.

Next came Pennsylvania. I had a lot to learn about driving I-80 across the Keystone State. The first significant thing that I discovered about I-80 in the 1980's was that every single gas station closed by 9:00 p.m. Boy did I learn that the hard way. Thank God for Holiday Inn.

Nighttime was pitch black dark in the wilds of western and central Pennsylvania, unlike the well lighted turnpikes in the Midwest. I had to stop for the night due to lack of gas, and couldn't see much but the building that the Holiday Inn was located in. When I woke in my hotel room the next morning, I went to the window and saw, for the first time, the Pocono foothills of central Pennsylvania. That made it feel like an adventure. Finally, I was out in the world, away from what I knew, and ready to experience life.

I paid my bill, hopped in my car, got some gas, and hit the road. It was my first real adventure. By evening I would be in Connecticut. By the time I reached Anne's house, I would have driven 1,200 miles all by myself.

The morning was gorgeous. The hills, the trees, the open road. By the time I changed over to North I-81 toward Scranton, I felt like I was in a whole other world. The hills turned into mountains, and the signs started to say, "To New England". What a rush.

I approached Scranton, Pennsylvania. There are some things that I've never understood in my lifetime. One of them was the road construction around that city in the 1980's. Scranton is where you leave North I-81 to get on East I-84 "To New England". The good people of Pennsylvania built an interchange there called the Throop Dunmore Interchange; a project that seemed to go on forever, and I drove through it for years. Due to the construction, the traffic backed up for miles, especially at rush hour. The diverted lanes used to go over the biggest junk yard I've ever seen in my life. That day I sat there long enough to realize that someone actually lived in the house in the middle of that junkyard that sprawled across several acres. Strangely, the house had an enormous playground in its yard, which looked as though it was well used. I still sometimes wonder about that.

There are many things that I'll never understand about that construction project. I never saw more than a couple of people at any given time working on that site. I drove through Scranton many times over the years, and as of 2001, the road construction was still in progress. The house, the junkyard, and the playground were still there too. But, I digress. Long story short; after watching all of that weird scenery for hours, I was finally on I-84 East "To New England".

Pennsylvania turns into New York State when you cross the Delaware River on I-84. It's interesting, because you come down one of the biggest hills that I'd seen at that time, cross a bridge over the Delaware at the bottom, and head up an even bigger hill on the other side. I take a lot of trips to that area because of the great hiking now, but my first impression was overwhelming. Sheer cliffs next to me and over my head made me nervous when I'd never seen hills that big before or that steep. It's quite a view from the pull off at the scenic overlook halfway up the New York side. You have to look straight out to appreciate the view. If you look down all you see is a hole where a strip mine used to be.

I saw my view and jumped back in my car. Clouds were starting to roll in, and I had miles to go, so I thought I should drive more and sightsee less for the time being. My next stretch was through the kills. "Kill" is and old Dutch word for stream, and in New York and Pennsylvania, there are lots of towns and other places named accordingly. Fishkill is one of my favorites. There's also Deerskill, Kaaterskill, Bushkill, Raymondskill, etc. The list goes on. Many roads that exit off of I-84 in Pennsylvania and New York State go to Kills.

After the Kills you get to Newburgh where you have to cross the Hudson River. This is another interesting thing I've always wondered about. You only have to pay a toll to get into New England. Every single bridge across the Hudson, North of New York City, only charges a toll going east. West is free. I've always wanted to know why. It's one of the questions that linger as I get older and have yet to hear an explanation. It's another one of life's little wonders and another space left unfulfilled in my mind.

Newburgh, New York. One of the major crossings of the Hudson in upstate New York with visions of WestPoint down the river, historic estates to visit in the area, and on the East side of the river, Fishkill Correctional Multi Level Security Prison.

The prison looms on both sides of the interstate. To the South are the walled, barbed wire buildings that house most of the inmates up to and including dangerous criminals. To the North are the windowless, electrical barbed fence enclosed buildings that house the criminally insane. As you approach this less than scenic vista from any direction you encounter signs that say, "Caution, maximum security prison ahead. Do not stop for or pick up any hitchhiker in this area." It left a lump in my throat that day. It was the first time I saw one of those signs.

I drove on past the sign until the prison came into view. When I saw the wire, the walls and the security I thought the signs must have been a mandated precaution. I couldn't imagine anyone picking up a stranger along the side of the road with a frightening looking prison on both sides.

As I approached the area that afternoon, I saw police cars entirely blocking both directions of I-84. The police cars had their lights flashing and traffic was at a standstill.

Every single vehicle was stopped and searched, and every driver and passenger was questioned. Even the kids were asked questions. When I stopped, a tall, blonde, blue eyed officer from the U.S. Marshall's Office came to my window.

"Good afternoon, miss," he said. "I'm Officer Benjamin Hansen." He showed me a badge.

"Hi. Can I help you?" I asked.

"Maybe. We seem to be having a little problem today. Could you step out of the car please?" he asked.

"Sure." I stepped out as he asked. From what I saw all around me it seemed like a huge problem.

He didn't explain any further at that time. He climbed around the inside of my car, checked the glove box, looked under the seats, and then jumped up and down on them. Then, he opened my trunk and looked in my luggage. When he was done, he came back to the side of the road where I was waiting next to a police car.

"Where are you traveling to today?" Officer Hansen asked.

"Berlin, Connecticut," I replied.

"Where did you come from?"

"Today, or where do I live?"

"Today."

"Clearfield, Pennsylvania."

"Where do you live?"

"North Manchester, Indiana."

"May I see your license?"

I retrieved my purse from my back seat and handed him my license. He studied the entire card front and back, and he held it up next to my face and compared it to me in person. He handed the license back to me. "Thank you. Could I ask you a few questions?"

I was ready to wet my pants I was so scared at that point. "I guess so."

"You seem nervous," he said.

"Where I come from, we don't even have this many cops," I replied. "We only have three cop cars."

"Please, don't be nervous. We're looking for someone. To be fair, the person we are seeking is extremely dangerous. Did you see anyone walking on or near the road as you approached, or today at all along the highway?"

"No."

"Did you see anyone at any of your stops in the last 20 miles or so, who looked out of place in any way? Maybe their clothing seemed unusual, or they appeared to be anxious? Maybe a large man with a dark beard and curly dark brown hair?"

"Not that I remember."

"Okay, that's it. As I said, nothing to be nervous about. We are just seeking information. You can go. Remember not to pick up any pedestrians or hitchhikers from the road or from anywhere you may stop, no matter what. Now, have a nice day."

"Okay." I started to get back in my car, but I had to know. "Are you looking for one of them?" I pointed to the South buildings.

"No. We're looking for one of them." He pointed to the North buildings.

"What's the difference?"

"Those are certifiably insane." He pointed to the North buildings again. "So whatever you do, don't pick anyone up."

The Destiny Dream
Part II

"We must try to understand the true weight of law enforcement officers' burdens."

-Janet Reno

I climbed into my car, but I didn't even get the door closed when an enormous, hairy man in a denim shirt and jeans jumped into the car and pushed me to the side. He closed the door and reached toward the ignition to find that I had not yet put the key in. I was frozen against my boom box on the other side of the bench seat. I had not yet taken the key out of my pocket.

"Where the hell is the key?" he yelled at me.

The windows were rolled down, and I saw out of the corner of my eye, Officer Hansen was walking toward the car again. I also saw another police officer approach the driver's side of my car. I couldn't bring myself to move, mostly because I wasn't sure where to go. I'd never been face to face with a psychopath who'd just escaped from prison.

The officer approaching from the driver's side of the car pulled his pistol and held it to the hairy escapee's head.

"Don't do anything. Put your hands in the air," he told the escapee.

The hairy man did as he was told. The officer opened the car door and the hairy man got out. Officer Hansen was standing by the passenger door where I was.

"Sandy, I'm going to open the door so you can climb out," Officer Hansen said.

He opened the door, grabbed the boom box and allowed me to get out of the car. He placed the boom box back on the seat and closed the door, once I was out. He began to guide me away from the car when I heard a ruckus.

"Stay here and don't move," Officer Hansen ordered me as he ran to the aid of the other officer.

The escapee had wrangled himself free from the other officer and had somehow taken the gun away from him. I watched as Officer Hansen pulled his gun and pointed it at the large man who was now holding the other officer in front of him as a shield.

"Put the gun down," Officer Hansen ordered the criminal. "You have nowhere to run. There are officers all over this area. You can't get through."

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I wanted to run, but Officer Hansen had told me not to move, and I couldn't bring my body to move anyway. I was too scared. I crouched behind my car and watched, helplessly. The rest of the officers were at least 100 yards away looking through other passing cars. No one appeared to be aware that the escapee had been located.

Officer Hansen reached for his radio, but the escapee put the gun harder to the other officer's head and said, "Don't. I will kill him."

"You can't get away. It won't happen. Just let him go and put down the gun," Officer Hansen said.

"I'm insane, ask my doctor. Do you really think you can reason with me? Do you know what happened to the last guy who tried to reason with me? I cut out his heart while he watched," the escapee said.

I was certain we were all going to die.

"I'm not trying to reason with you," Officer Hansen said. "Just stating facts."

"Shoot him," the other officer said.

"He'll kill you," Officer Hansen replied.

I'd seen things like that on TV, but never in real life. My small hometown only had a real crime every 5 years or so, and I'd never been there in person for one of them. I didn't know what to do. All I could do was wait and watch.

"What's it going to be?" the escapee asked.

Officer Hansen lowered his gun. "Let him go. Then run."

The escapee stared at him.

"Shoot him!" The other officer said.

"It's not worth it," Officer Hansen said. "He'll get caught soon anyway. He won't get far.

"That's your version," the escapee said.

The escapee threw the other officer on the ground. Officer Hansen raised his gun and shot the escapee in the shoulder of the arm that was holding the stolen gun. The escapee fell, but fired a shot as he fell. The bullet hit Officer Hansen right in the abdomen. Officer Hansen fell to the ground as well.

The other officer dove at the escapee and took the gun away. He grabbed his handcuffs, called for help and finally harnessed the escapee. It was the most dramatic scene I'd ever seen.

I saw Officer Hansen lying on the ground by my car. I didn't think. I ran to see if there was anything I could do. He was bleeding profusely from the stomach area. I'd taken some classes like first aid and CPR for extra credit in high school, but I'd never studied anything this serious. Everyone was tending to the immediate danger to society, and no one had gotten to Officer Hansen yet.

I grabbed my jacket from the floor of the car and applied some pressure to the wound. It was all that I could do. Officer Hansen was still conscious. He lay on the ground gaping at me.

"You should get out of here," he said. "It's not safe."

"They're all busy keeping him down," I said. "There's no one to take care of you. Is there an ambulance coming?!" I yelled to the others.

"You should hear the sirens any minute," one of the other officers said.

Officer Hansen started to close his eyes.

"Don't go to sleep," I told him. "I don't know much, but I know that's not good when you're bleeding this much."

He smiled. "How do you know that? You're just a girl."

"I had a sliced arm once. Seems like the same principle."

"How did that happen?"

"I sneezed with a big knife in my hand," I replied, smiling.

I heard the sirens approaching. Help was on the way. I suddenly had the urge to run. Everything was changing from surreal to too real. I didn't want to be any more involved than I already was.

"I'll be okay," Officer Hansen said. "You can leave. I won't let them stop you."

I saw that the path for my car to get back on the road was clear despite everything that was going on.

"I should demand that you stay, but this could get to be a mess. I owe you my life. I would have bled out without you. Now, go. That will make us even."

The ambulance pulled up next to Officer Hansen still leaving a path for my car. Two EMT's got out and jumped to Officer Hansen's aid.

"You'll be okay now," I told him.

"Thank you," he replied. "I hope my son turns out half as good as you. You're a truly decent person."

"Thanks," I replied. "You have a baby?"

"He's 15, and a pain, but I can still hope," he smiled.

"It'll be okay," I said.

The officers were all busy with the now two ambulances and the wounded. There were a couple of State Police Officers diverting traffic around the scene. I wanted to leave. I didn't want to get involved in the whole mess. I casually, carefully got into my car, started the engine and pulled onto the highway.

I was immediately stopped by a State Trooper. "Excuse me, where are you going?"

"I was waiting in line when something happened. I was cleared to leave by one of the Marshalls because I couldn't see anything from where I was waiting," I lied.

I could see the EMT's behind me putting Officer Hansen and the gurney that he was now lying on into the back of the ambulance.

"Is the Chrysler LeBaron cleared to leave the scene?" the State Trooper asked on the radio.

"Yes," came a weak voice that sounded to me like Officer Hansen.

"Drive safe, miss," the State Trooper said and waved me on.

From the prison, it wasn't far to the Connecticut State Line. The weather had changed while I was detained, becoming dark and gloomy. It looked as though it might pour rain at anytime. That mess at the prison had taken a while. It was getting late, and I wanted to get as far from the prison scene as I possibly could as fast as I could. I was slowly realizing that what had actually happened was that I was in the middle of a prison break and an escapee capture. I'd also witnessed a shooting. It didn't seem real.

I'd been in what I learned to describe later in my life as emergency shock. It's a personality trait of mine. I handle everything in an emergency, even when I don't know what to do. I'm the most composed person in the crowd when bad things happen. Once everything is under control, I realize how dangerous the situation was and I have to wind down. In a dangerous enough situation, I collapse for a bit. But that day I didn't have time. I wanted to put some distance between me and the situation and I wanted to reach my destination in Berlin, Connecticut.

I had to think as I approached the state line. What was it that Anne had warned me about? She'd said, "Be careful not to be in Danbury between 4 and 6 p.m. That's rush hour." I looked at my watch. It said 3:45. Then I saw a sign that said "Danbury 25 miles".

Great.

The Destiny Dream
Part III

"I don't ever feel like I have it all together."

\- Brooke Shields

It wasn't long before I hit rush hour traffic. It started right before I crossed the state line into Connecticut. It was so dark and gloomy outside that I expected a cloudburst at any moment. Then I saw it. I'd made it. I spotted the sign that said "Connecticut Welcomes You". The exact moment when I passed that sign was when the cloudburst happened. In a split second visibility was reduced to zero. The sheets of rain hitting my windshield looked more like the view from behind Niagara Falls on the Canadian side, than out of a windshield.

I took a deep breath. I didn't know much, and I had no map by my own choosing, but I knew I had to stay on I-84. The best idea I had was to follow the red glow that were the taillights of the car in front of me. For brief seconds as the windshield wipers flew back and forth I could vaguely see shapes but had no idea what they were. I hoped they were cars. My defogger wasn't working, which was normal for my LeBaron. Many things failed to work on that car. I cracked the window enough to get some air from outside and a lot of water. That process was also normal for the car.

Next came the surprise. In the middle of one of the hardest torrential downpours I've ever endured, my driver's side windshield wiper snapped loose enough to whirl it off of the windshield, around to the side of the car, and in my open window arm and all. From that point on, I saw nothing but water.

The drive lasted for what seemed like hours. I couldn't see where I was going at all in the rain with no windshield wipers. Had I known anything about the area, I would have stopped. I was exhausted, frightened, and emotionally bankrupt after the episode at the prison. I soldiered on. How I got there, I don't know, but I made it all the way to Waterbury, Connecticut.

Ironically, when the rain stopped, I was at the one place in Connecticut that I recognized. It was the exit that went to the Holiday Inn in Waterbury. That's where Anne had picked me up the previous summer when I'd flown out to visit and had been driven up from LaGuardia Airport in New York City by a Connecticut Limousine Service. I couldn't believe that was where I'd haphazardly ended up again. I stopped and went into the lobby to call Anne to have her come and pick me up.

I went to the front desk and asked if they had a phone I could use. The man at the desk silently pointed to a pay phone on the opposite side of the reception area, without looking up from whatever he was reading. I grabbed a dime from my pocket and walked across the room to the phone. As I approached the phone I felt as though I was being watched. I turned around to see an old woman standing behind me.

The woman stared at me but stood perfectly still. It made me uneasy. "Can I help you?" I asked her.

She was wearing a peasant blouse and a skirt that looked like it was made of individual scarves. She also had a scarf on her head. The only thing I could think of was gypsies.

The woman reached inside her oversized bag and came out with what looked like a playing card. "I noticed your aura," she said.

I didn't want to seem cynical. My grandma had taught me to respect my elders and the woman appeared to be about 100 years old. "Aura?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Forgive me, I'm Sophia. I don't mean to bother you. I couldn't help but notice you. I had a vision and I wanted to share it with you."

"I'm sorry. I don't have any money to give you," I replied, thinking that was probably her hustle. "I'm in a hurry."

"Forgive me, I meant no harm," Sophia said. She walked away.

I picked up the receiver for the pay phone and dialed Anne's number. She answered on the second ring. "Sandy, is that you?"

"Yes," I replied. "I made it to the hotel in Waterbury again. There's a problem with my windshield wipers. Can you come and help me?"

"Sure, just stay put. John and I are on our way," Anne said.

"Okay, but hurry. There are some weird people here today."

"On our way." She hung up.

I glanced at the old woman who was now sitting on a sofa in the lobby. She looked sad and that made me feel bad for running her off. I walked over to where she was sitting.

"I'm sorry if I was abrupt," I told her. "I'm having some car trouble and I'm not from around here. I had to call for some help."

"I understand," Sophia said. "I'm sure you feel nervous having car trouble so far from the Midwest. I didn't mean to spook you even more."

She'd mentioned my aura and now she seemed to know all about me. That instantly made me nervous.

"How did you know where I'm from?" I asked. "Are you psychic?"

"I do have visions, child," Sophia replied as she stood up. "However, I saw your license plate."

"Oh, sorry," I replied.

"I don't normally go up and tell people my visions," Sophia said. "I normally don't have visions, because fortune telling is a game. I only charge when people come to see me. I don't know why I had a vision when I saw you, but I did. I wasn't trying to shake you down for money. I'm not working today."

She seemed sincere. I was moderately curious what she was talking about. "So, what was this vision?"

"It's all right. You don't have to humor an old woman."

"No, really. I'm curious now."

"Do you dream?" she asked me.

"Not normally, why?" I replied.

"When I saw you, I saw your purplish aura, and then when I reached in my bag, to get my cards, I pulled out this one." She handed me a tarot card with a woman on it that said Fortune.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It could mean several things," she replied. "But in all the years that I've been telling fortunes, I've never actually seen an aura. And purple centers around visionaries and intuition. Purple auras are largely about dreams. So is that card. It's quite a coincidence. I thought that maybe you had dreams that I could help explain. There aren't truly any coincidences in the world. I thought it was a sign."

"I really don't dream at all," I said. "I'm normally so busy that I'm too tired to dream. Sorry, but I don't believe in signs and things like that."

"How odd," Sophia said. "I saw you in a plane. That was my vision. I was sure it was a dream that I saw. I saw a small jet and you were in the cockpit. Normally when I see something like that, it's a dream." She pointed to the card. "You keep this. If you have a dream, you should pay attention to it. If any of this means anything, a dream could be a sign for you. If you ignore it, you could ruin your destiny."

"But I don't dream."

"Everyone dreams," Sophia said. "You simply need to pay attention. Destiny is not unavoidable. If you ignore it, you can miss it. It's like when you're driving down the road, and see something, but drive away. You may never know how things could have turned out."

Had she seen the incident at the prison? Could she see something like that in her mind?

I broke her gaze and stared at the card for just a moment. I'd only ever been in a small plane one time for a 15 minute ride. I'd never dreamed about a plane, and certainly not about a jet. How odd. When I looked up, Sophia was gone. I looked around the lobby and didn't see her. I went to the door and looked outside but saw no one. I went to the desk and asked the man at the desk if he saw where she went and he looked at me like I had four heads. He said that he didn't know what I was talking about. I didn't believe in fate, destiny, psychics, or magic; so I presumed she must have gotten in the elevator while I wasn't looking. I stuck the card in my bag and sat down on the sofa to wait for Anne and John. What I couldn't figure out was why the sofa smelled like the perfume that I had smelled on Sophia if she'd been a figment of my imagination. I wasn't sure what to think.

Twenty minutes later Anne and her boyfriend, John pulled into the parking lot where I'd gone to sit on a parking block in a sudden wash of sunshine. I was drying my clothes and getting out of the lobby which now gave me the creeps. My car was starting to dry off too, although with its broken windshield wipers, it looked like it belonged in a demolition derby. Anne had a smirk on her face like she wanted to laugh, but I didn't find anything funny. Instead of laughing, she gave me a big hug and said that she was glad to see me.

"I was worried about you," Anne said. "I saw on the news that there was a problem at the prison by Newburgh. A killer got loose and a cop got shot and all kinds of stuff. Did you see that?"

I was the first person to tell a great story, but not that one. I also didn't want to talk about the psychic. I didn't want anyone to know that I was there when that Marshall got shot. I didn't think anyone would believe me about the gypsy since she'd disappeared. I didn't want to think too much about the events of my day, and I certainly didn't want to try and explain them to anyone.

"They stopped me and asked me some questions. That was it," I replied. "Glad I missed the shooting. That sounds like a real bummer."

"No shit," Anne replied. "Well, it's great to see you. We're gonna have a great time!"

I believed that. The last time I'd come to visit Anne we'd had a great time, and I liked Connecticut pretty well, so when I'd started planning my first paid vacation, Anne's place had been on the top of my list.

And there she was. Anne was a ball of energy. She was thin to the point of being anorexic. Her hair was straight, blonde, and long. She spent most of her time around her neighbor's stables, so she lived in cowboy boots and jeans. She was an Eastern cowgirl though, so she didn't wear the 10-gallon hat or country and western snap closure shirts. Tee shirts and baseball caps were more her style. Anne always had a flash in her eyes. It was a spark that made you wonder what she might be up to. That spark and energy was what made coming to Connecticut so much fun. I was looking forward to a week of fun and unexpected adventures. Anne was always full of surprises. We always had a great time. It didn't really matter what we did. It was always great.

Fun I expected. Adventure was certain. New experiences would be unavoidable. But, in my wildest fantasies, beyond all imagination, at 19 years old, I had no idea that one moment in a lifetime—one bizarre experience—could change the course of an entire life. I had no idea that driving by a prison and having broken windshield wipers could put events in motion that would change my life. That day changed my life. Now, I'll explain why. I didn't even understand in the beginning. I was still a child.

The Destiny Dream
Part IV

"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

-J.K. Rowling

The next part of my trip started out much as I expected. Over the next few days, we hung out at the stables; we took road trips around the area, and ate a ton of junk food. John did a lot of the driving during the day and spent the evenings trying to fix my car. He made me get new tires too. He said mine were dangerously bald.

We visited the shore, where we found a cute little beachside amusement park called Ocean Beach Park in New London. We ran around Middletown, Cromwell, and Berlin. We took a drive to downtown New Britain which was a little too urban and ghetto-like for me. We went to Holyoke, Massachusetts to Mount Tom for the Fourth of July, and we found the last surviving Burger Chef in the World. All of those were wonderful and memorable experiences. But the one that will forever stick in my mind was the one that was really nothing special.

We were out driving around one afternoon in the woods somewhere north of Bristol. Honestly I had no idea where we were, and I didn't care. I was enjoying the scenery and the breeze in my hair coming from the window. Being from the Midwest, hills, trees, and boulders were scenic to me. Waterfalls made me feel like I'd gone to a different planet. They were a rare sight where I lived. We drove through a couple of picturesque New England towns that looked like they fell right off of a calendar.

Life rarely feels that simple and pleasant. At one point we'd driven by a sign for a ski resort to our right while on my left I was seeing glimpses of what appeared to be a lake. I could feel us climbing uphill as we curved back and forth on the winding road. The woods were so dense that the road was wet in the afternoon of a hot, sunny July day. John took a left at one of the intersections that Anne described as a fork in the road. Suddenly, it appeared--the picture that would haunt me for years.

We drove out of the woods onto an earthen crossing between two reservoirs. On the right was the upper lake with a view like I'd never seen. The lake went on for miles, weaving in and out of rolling mountains that were covered densely with trees. The road we were on was bordered by stone walls, and on the right was a wall with a walk that extended out over the water to a stone pump house. On the left there was a huge, steep hill that extended down to the lower reservoir, which went for miles weaving in and out of more rolling mountains and more dense woods. At the bottom of the hill was a spillway, a driveway, and a fountain. The lakes were bordered by thick forest on all sides except the ones along that center road. It was the most beautiful place I'd ever seen. I imagined that even God might find it impressive. We stopped there for a short while before we continued on our drive. I was mesmerized, but Anne and John didn't give the place a second thought. Neither did any of the people I saw there. I thought I was so fascinated, because I wasn't used to scenery like that. No one, especially me, would have thought that it was more than that. Little did I know that one view would change my life The repercussions from that day would make my life crazy in the years ahead.

That night, I was sleeping in my younger cousin, Priscilla's little bed, when suddenly, I began to dream. I heard a song. I'd never heard it before. I didn't see anything. I just heard the song at first. Then the reservoirs materialized. The leaves weren't green as they had been earlier that day. The leaves on the trees surrounding the reservoir were red and yellow and orange, like autumn. The song played on. The reservoirs faded and I saw myself dancing with a man. I couldn't tell where. I couldn't see what he looked like. I could see that we were dressed up. It was obviously a special occasion. I saw myself. I was older, not the sassy teenager I was proud to be at that moment in time. Who was the guy? What was the song? What did that place have to do with me? I woke suddenly, in a cold sweat. I sat there in the dark and remembered what Sophia had said. She'd said I was in the cockpit of a plane. I didn't dream. Why now? Why the song? I wondered for hours, and wasn't sure why it even bothered me. It was just a dream. By the time I calmed down the sun was coming up, so I took a nap to get ready for the next day.

At breakfast, Aunt Ruby told Anne and I that the weather was supposed to be really bad. She said fronts were converging and high winds were coming. Aunt Ruby was something of an amateur meteorologist. She watched the brand new 24 hour Weather Channel incessantly. Everything she said, I should have listened to, but instead, we ignored her and took off to John's house in Bristol.

Once in Bristol, John finished fussing with my car for my drive home. The weather didn't look bad to me. It was cloudy, but the sun peeked out off and on. It didn't strike me as the kind of wicked weather that Aunt Ruby seemed so frightened of. The thing that amazes me, looking back, is that I didn't catch the terminology when Ruby was talking. I'd grown up in Indiana. I'd been around more wicked weather than I even want to recall. Fronts converging kept life unpredictable and pretty dangerous in Indiana for months at a time. Converging fronts and super cells were a way of life in the Midwest. I hadn't spent a lot of time in New England and had no idea how rare these events were there.

When my car was done, John said that he wanted to go to the store to get gum. We piled into his yellow Omni and went to a plaza about a mile away. On our way there, the sky went from partly cloudy to black. Not dark, but black. Weather changed quickly in Indiana, but I'd never seen a change that quick. The wind started to pick up and John had to turn on the headlights.

"This must be the storm mom was talking about," Anne said. "Man is it dark."

"It's more than dark," said John. "It's freaky. It's glowing or something. Maybe I'm nuts, but everything looks fucking green."

Then it hit me. I'd seen weather like that before.

"Well, what do ya know?" Anne said. "The wind stopped. Weird."

"Shit," I said. "Where's the plaza?"

"It's right here," John said as he turned into the parking lot.

"Are you okay?" Anne asked. "You don't look so good."

I barely even heard her as I looked around for a sturdy building. We needed shelter—immediately.

"Sandy, what is it?" Anne asked.

I jumped out of the car and said, "Get out now. Come on." I started to run for the bank next to the grocery store.

"Where are you going?" John yelled.

"In the bank, now! Before it's too late!"

They followed instinctively. I got to the front door as they caught up.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Anne yelled at me.

"Get inside," I ordered them.

"What the hell is that noise?" John asked.

It was the unmistakable sound of a freight train as imitated by Mother Nature herself.

"That," I said, pointing across the street from the plaza.

A tornado approached, traveling directly down the center of the adjacent road. The wind hit again as the tornado came dangerously close to us. Anne shrieked, and John said, "Jesus," as they followed me inside.

I ran to the opposite side of the bank lobby and yelled, "Tornado! Get Down!"

Everyone hit the deck as though it were a robbery.

Then it hit. Four or five minutes of loud noise, ground shaking, pieces of brick wall being pulled out of the building by the vacuous pressure. We all cowered in a bunch at the back of the bank.

I grew up in tornado land. I knew all about the signs and dangers. I knew what to do. The amazing part is that still, to this day, that was the only tornado that I was ever actually in. Why I ended up in a tornado in Connecticut and never in Indiana is beyond me. Mother Nature is strange, and so is life.

When the noise was over, all the glass at the front entrance was shattered. The ground stopped quaking, and we all sat still and looked around at each other.

"Is it over?" A well dressed middle aged man who was probably the manager asked me.

"Don't go anywhere for a few more minutes," I told him. "We want to make sure it's gone."

"What do you mean, make sure?" John asked.

"Sometimes they come back, or there's more than one. If you wait about five minutes and nothing else happens, it's probably over."

"How do you know?" the middle aged man asked me.

"She's from tornado alley," Anne replied.

"Oh," he answered.

A few minutes later I announced, "It seems to be over."

Everyone began to get up and exit the building. The scene outside was like a news image of a federally declared disaster area. The grocery store that had been connected to the bank was in a heap. I hoped that no one had been killed. I learned later on the news that everyone survived, but there were a lot of injuries. Most of the cars in the parking lot were damaged to one extent or another. John's car had a broken windshield. He was lucky since they found some of the cars as far as three blocks away. An AMC Gremlin landed in a tree.

In all the chaos, the thing that struck me most odd were the four houses on the road that extended away from the plaza on the opposite side of the parking lot. The houses were all alike except in color, and they all had a single peaked roof. The tornado had pulled the roofs off of the first three houses and dropped them all on the fourth. It was like a stack of pancakes made of shingles. I can still see those houses, plain as day, in my memory.

everything was fine at John's house a mile or so away. The tornado hadn't hit there. There never seems to be any rhyme or reason to a tornado. Irregardless, we were all lucky that afternoon.

The next morning I left for home. It was two days early, but I'd had enough adventure. Too many unusual things had happened to me. I no longer wanted to stand out in a crowd. I was scared and, looking back, still too young to handle stressful situations. No matter how much housework I had to do to take care of my parents' house, and no matter how much complaining I would have to hear about how they had to take care of things while I was gone; I was ready to go home. Better the devil you know than the one you don't. I felt like the outside world was against me. I was ready to run back to Indiana and never leave again.

I didn't have the strange dream during my trip except on that first night. I didn't dream at all to my recollection the rest of the time. I believed that it had been an isolated dream brought on by the bizarre events of an unusual road trip. I didn't want to think about anything except getting home and going back to work. I didn't know if I'd peered into my future, or if I'd eaten a bad tuna sandwich. I didn't believe in magic and I didn't believe in mysticism and I didn't believe that anyone could see the future. Sophia seemed like a nice old lady, but I was pretty sure she was completely nuts. I wasn't sure that she was even real. She may have been a hallucination. I was only sure of one thing in my adolescent mind. It was just a stupid dream.

The Destiny Dream
Part V

"God has his plans and his reasons. Sometimes we are supposed to go through things so that we learn lessons."

-Dolly Parton

When I arrived home from Anne's house, my parents were in Mexico. They left a note on the dining room table. They'd been doing that half my life. I remember the first time that they took off and left me nothing but a note. I was eleven years old. I'd come home from a baseball game that they'd promised to come to, and I found a note that said "Gone to Cincinnati to watch the Reds play a three game series. Be home in a few days. Here's money for groceries. Love, Mom and Dad." They'd left a hundred dollar bill on the table. They hadn't worried about what would happen to me at all. They knew that the neighbors would look out for me. They didn't even call during those four days that they were gone to see how I was.

That was only the first such trip. Over the years, I taught myself how to drive so that I could get to the grocery store when I was eleven and twelve. It's amazing what you'll do when you have to take care of yourself. By the time I was sixteen, my parents went away almost every weekend. They left me a note and went to Hawaii for two weeks once. I don't think they were the least bit concerned about what I was doing. Most of the time, I wasn't really sure where they were. I grew up quick, young, and fairly wise--or at least I thought I was.

By the time that I was nineteen, they barely bothered to ask what I'd been up to. I only talked to them briefly about once a week on average. Sometimes I don't think that I would have been as much of an adult if they'd been more parent-like. I spent all of that time worrying about what they thought for no reason. I spent most of my life trying to impress them and attain their approval. I finally learned that they were incapable of approval. Why I'm not sure. I eventually realized that I can't raise my parents.

The rest of that summer had been miserable. Shortly after I came home from vacation, my ex-boyfriend had popped up out of nowhere--or California. Man, was I ever young and dumb. He said that he'd come back because he missed me and wanted me back—blah, blah, blah. I believed every word. That didn't last long. Soon he'd quit coming around again. One day he'd been there, the next day I couldn't find him. I knew deep down inside that he was just an average ass looking for a piece to roll around in bed with.

Then, my job went away. The factory was going to close their doors. Me and half the town would be out of work by winter. At that point I believed that I'd had every bad experience that most people would have in a lifetime. Of course I was only 19.

My one experience with a tornado had become a distant memory by the time Labor Day arrived. John and Anne had up and decided to get married a few days after I'd left. I couldn't turn right around and go back, so I missed the wedding. By Labor Day, they were off on their honeymoon.

It was Labor Day, I was unemployed, had no life, no boyfriend and—hello—I was pregnant. Wasn't life grand? I couldn't tell my parents. I still foolishly wanted their approval. So I called the culprit—Stewart. Stewart was part of what I called the local religious cult. They were called Old Order German Baptist Dunkers. I called them Amish with electricity and cars. They dressed like Amish, but they were quite modern. They still didn't watch TV, unless is was at someone else's house. They did listen to AM radio, however. They claimed it was for news and weather only. Their cars weren't supposed to be flashy. They had to be black sedans with no extras to be allowed by the church. They tried very hard to keep to themselves isolated as a group, and most of them were farmers.

But, when they had kids, things became a little more complicated. The children were raised strictly and kept extremely sheltered. When they turned 16, they were considered adults in the church. All of a sudden, they had no rules. They weren't forced into the religion. That's when rebellion hit, especially with the boys. They normally became party animals; drinking, smoking, drugs. They bought sports cars and designer clothes. Most importantly, they dated women who weren't of their family faith.

That was where I came in, but I'd been too naïve to see it. We spent most of two years together. I was crazy about him. I thought I was in love. It never occurred to me that I was being lied to, led on, cheated on, and used. I thought he was just frightened of commitment and telling his parents about me. I never once thought to look around me and see that all of those guys eventually married girls from the church. The others girls they dated were just for practice. The concept was beginning to dawn on me, but I still had so much more to learn.

I called Stewart and said that we needed to talk. He agreed to meet me if I would bring all of the stuff he'd left at my house over the years. I agreed. We met at the park one block from my parents house. When I got there He was sitting on the damn Corvette of his that I'd always hated. He was smiling.

"You look great," he said, grinning at me.

"Gee thanks," I replied, wanting to knock him right off the car.

I didn't know at that moment what I'd ever seen in him. I didn't know what to do. I was carrying his child from one stupid night of passion and self delusion. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life with him, but what choice did I have? I was stuck.

"I didn't want this to be ugly," he said. "It just doesn't work. Why do we have to be enemies?"

"Why didn't you tell me it wasn't working? You just took off. You're a coward."

"You're right. I am. So shoot me. Isn't there any way we can get past this?"

"Like how?"

"I don't know. We were friends for years. Whenever we weren't dating, you were still one of my best friends. I miss that. I could really use my best friend right about now," he said.

How I hated that sappy routine he used on me whenever I was mad at him. It was true. We'd dated and broken up many times, but we'd always been friends in between. Now, with the baby, it had to be different. It was time to grow up.

"Too much has happened for us to be friends," I said.

"I know. I screwed up," he replied. He started pacing. "I have something to tell you."

My heart skipped a beat. "I have something to tell you too."

"You first," he offered.

"No, you first," I insisted.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes." I didn't know how to tell him I was pregnant.

"I don't know how to tell you. Okay, I'll just say it." He took a deep breath and stepped away from me. He started to switch his weight from one foot to the other, stared at the ground, and cleared his throat. "I was dating someone when I came back. I was cheating on her with you."

"I was..." I nearly choked. "The other woman?"

"Yeah. God, I'm sorry. I tried to break up with her after I ran into you that first night, but she wouldn't hear me or something. She's insane and thought that if she didn't acknowledge it, I couldn't leave."

"Irresistible, just like all the others," I said sarcastically while trying not to cry.

"I was stupid okay? I was really stupid." He stopped and looked at me until I spoke.

"What? Are you waiting for an argument?" I replied.

"No."

"Then what!"

"I knocked her up."

I wanted to yell, hit him, maybe even kill him, but not so much as a single sound came from my lips.

"I had to pay $400 for the abortion," Stewart said.

The Destiny Dream
Part VI

"I have many regrets, and I'm sure everyone does. The stupid things you do, you regret... if you have any sense, and if you don't regret them, maybe you're stupid."

-Katharine Hepburn

My mind started flying at a million miles per second. Abortion? Holy shit. Of all the wild thoughts that had occurred to me, that hadn't even made the list. I knew in an instant that I could never tell him I was pregnant. I realized in that second how far he would go to stay in favor with his family and the church that he said he didn't believe in. I knew I could never see him again for the sake of my child. I didn't personally believe in abortion and no way would my child be around a father who would have him murdered.

"Say something," he said. "Please."

"I have to go," I replied. I turned to walk away. "Good-bye Stewart."

"Sandy, please. Please don't leave this way!" he yelled after me. I didn't respond. "God, I'm sorry! I mean it! I don't know what to do without you! I can't tell anyone about this but you! If you keep walking, we're through forever!"

Through forever. Not something that I'd previously considered. Ironically, I didn't know what to do without him either, but it was time to figure it out. I kept walking and thinking. I believed that sooner or later my brain would snap out of shock and it would start working again. There had to be a next step in my life. What that was, I had no idea.

My hometown, North Manchester, was a tiny, small town in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the vast cornfields, soybean fields, tufts of Maple woods, and endless straight roads that simply are Northern Indiana. The population of my town was about 6,000 people. That included all of the Amish with cars—about 1,000 people, the gigantic senior citizen community in the retirement homes—about 2,000 people, and the college students who were only there during the school year—about 1,000 people. So, you had your basic 2,000 person community, and only about half of us lived within the town. It was an isolated small town. Most people had been there for a lifetime. There were a lot of families that had been around for generations. My father lived there as a child.

In a town like North Manchester, I was only going to walk so far on a sunny afternoon before I ran into someone I knew.

The person who spotted me was Josh. He'd lived two blocks down the street from me since we were three years old. He'd been my first boyfriend and was one of my best friends. There had been a brief period in high school when we'd hated each other over our breakup, but we'd gotten past that. Josh was going to the local college and working as an EMT (Emergency Medical Technician) with the local ambulance service to pay for school. In his spare time, he was a volunteer police officer. He was volunteering when he spotted me that day.

"Need a lift?" he asked as he stopped the police car in the middle of the street. It was a common practice in a town so rural that it only had two multi colored traffic lights.

I didn't answer. I kept walking. Josh idled along beside me.

"How long do I have to do this before you talk to me?" he asked. He followed. I finally stopped and turned to look at him. "Yeah, I'm still here."

"What?" I asked.

"That's what I'm trying to find out," he replied.

"Leave me alone," I snapped.

"You know, I would love to, but I know that mood too well. I know what will happen if I leave."

"What?" I asked. "What do you know will happen?"

"You'll decide you want to talk in the middle of the night and come knocking on my bedroom window."

"So?"

"So, I have a class at 8:00 a.m. I need my sleep. Can't we just talk now?" He paused, waiting for me to answer. I started to cry.

He pulled over and got out of his car. He came over and put his arm around my shoulders. "Come on, I really want to help. I didn't mean to make you cry."

"It's not you," I sobbed.

"I'm glad. Let me guess, it's asshole Stewart."

"How'd you know that?"

"I passed him on the other side of town. When did he come slithering back?"

"About six weeks ago," I said, still sniffling.

Josh sat me down on the curb. For a couple of minutes he sat next to me and said nothing. I knew it wouldn't take him long to figure out the six weeks thing. We lived in the capital of teen pregnancies. Everyone's first thought at the phrase six weeks was pregnancy. Hell, by this point in time, Josh and I had both delivered babies in the back seats of old cars. I never dreamed that I would be one of those morons, yet there I was.

"Well?" I broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Well," he began. "We have a few choices."

"Like what?" I asked.

"I could have him arrested. I'm sure they'll find something illegal in that Corvette."

"Don't be silly."

"What do you want me to do? I could kill him myself."

"No you can't."

"I think I have to."

"What are you talking about, Josh?"

"I told him I would kill him if he ever hurt you. I think it's a matter of me keeping my word. Call it chivalry."

When I'd started dating Stewart seriously my senior year of high school, Josh had still supposedly hated me. The idea that he'd threatened Stewart at that time was incredible to me.

"You did that?" I paused. "For me?"

"Don't sound so surprised."

"You hated me then."

"I was just mad."

"For almost two years."

"I had my pride."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"I had to hate you. You beat the shit out of me in front of everyone."

"I forgot about that." It seemed like a million years ago. "You were telling sex lies about me."

"I know."

"Why? That's the one thing you never told me. Was it to impress the guys?"

"No." Josh looked down at his feet. "You were the only girl I dated that I didn't do it with."

"Then why would you lie? It wasn't like you didn't get any."

"So no one else would get you. I couldn't stand the thought of you with someone else. That's why Stewart and I never got along once you started dating. I couldn't think about it."

I smiled. Josh could be quite charming when he wanted to be. "That's sick, but kind of sweet."

"I know it was selfish and stupid. I couldn't let you go."

"Thanks."

Suddenly, he slapped his knees and stood up. "So, I guess we should get married."

"What!"

"You can't let that son of a bitch have anything to do with the kid. Like it or not, every kid needs a dad. You've known me my whole life. We could have a good life. At least I know my in-laws will like me."

I didn't know what to say. "What would Dina say?"

Dina had been Josh's girlfriend for three years. She was from our neighborhood too.

"Dina and I have no future," he replied. He saw the disgusted look on my face. "Don't look at me that way."

"How heartless are you?" I asked.

"I'm not. I've never so much as told her I love her. I've always let her know I'm not serious about her. She's the one who keeps hanging on."

"That's sick."

"I'll make an honest woman of you."

"Thanks." I stood up and started to walk away.

"Where are you going?" he called after me.

"Home."

"Then what?" He paused. "Are you pissed at me? 'Cause I was just trying to help, I swear."

"I know. It's actually quite sweet." I paused and sighed. "We would kill each other if we lived together. I have to deal with this on my own."

"What will you do?" he asked.

"Tell my parents, I guess. After they kill me, it won't matter." I took his hand. "Just do me one favor, okay?"

"Anything, just name it," he assured me.

"Don't tell anyone—ever—swear."

"I swear."

"And help me after my parent's kick me out in the street."

"Whatever you need."

Then his portable radio went off. He looked at the message. "So much for getting my sleep."

"Why?"

"They need me on the ambulance tonight. Gotta go." He walked to his car and opened the passenger door. "Let me take you home."

I silently walked over and got in. We sat in silence for the short drive to my house. When I arrived at my house my heart was in my throat, and my stomach was sick. My parents were both home, which was extremely rare, but meant that the time had come for me to talk to them.

"Are you going to be okay?" Josh asked me as I got out of his car. "You know the number at work if you need me."

"Thanks, but I have to be a big girl now."

"Why don't you lie?"

"The only lie that could make it better is that I'm not pregnant. And that won't last long."

"I really want to shoot him," Josh said.

"So do I. You have to get to work, and I have to go and totally disappoint my parents. This will give them good reason to look down on me for the rest of their lives. It'll give my mom a reason to nag at me for the rest of my life and a reason for my dad to never speak to me again. Hell, this will put me below my brother Jerry on the bad list in my family."

"Are you sure you're ready for this? 'Cause you don't sound like you're ready." He paused. "Why do you care what they think anyway? They haven't exactly been there for you."

"I don't know; they're my parents," I replied. "I have to tell them sometime. I may as well tell them now and get it over with. The kid would have grandchildren if I waited until I was ready." I shut the door and waved to him as he drove away.

The Destiny Dream
Part VII

"I fell off my pink cloud with a thud."

-Elizabeth Taylor

Facing my parents as a pregnant woman/girl was the toughest thing I'd ever had to do. It wasn't that my parents had an ideal life; they'd both been married to other people before they'd met, but as far as I knew, they'd had no part in the breakups of their first marriages. My mother's first husband had come home one day and introduced mom to his new fiancé. My dad had caught his first wife cheating on him. I believed them. In my eyes, my parents had never done anything wrong. That day I was going to tell my perfect parents that their youngest daughter was pregnant, and that I'd been jilted by a jerk that I should have seen coming a mile away. I'd been stupid enough to let it happen. I would have to hear that for the rest of my life.

I walked in the front door to my parents sitting side by side in their his and hers recliners. My dad looked like he was about to nod off, which was normal when he was home. My mom was watching baseball on TV. She watched TV most of the time when they were home.

They both looked up and said "Hi" when I came in, then mom went back to watching TV, and dad leaned back to close his eyes.

I sat down on the sofa adjacent to them. "Can I talk to you?"

"Can it wait until after the game?" my mother asked.

"I guess," I answered. I sat back to watch, but tears were welling up in my eyes. Tears from sheer fright.

My father watched me for several minutes. "My God kid, what is it? Viv," he said to my mom. "Turn that thing off." He turned back to me. "What's wrong? Why are you crying? I saw Josh drop you off. What did he do?"

"Nothing dad. It has nothing to do with Josh. He gave me a ride home."

"Oh." He paused. "What did that son of a bitch do to you? I've always hated him." Son of a Bitch was what my dad called Stewart, even to his face.

"I know, but it's not about him--not exactly. It's about me." I stood up and started to pace and shake. "I'm an adult now, and I'm responsible for my own actions."

"What did you do now?" my mother asked.

"I had sex and..." I paused. I saw the look on my father's face. I had to soften the blow somehow. "I missed my period. I might be pregnant."

"Oh God," my dad said. "Tell me it's Josh."

"Right now I wish I could," I sobbed. "do you hate me?"

"Of course he doesn't hate you," my mom said. "Neither of us hates you."

"I'm so stupid," I sobbed.

"No you're not," my mom replied. "You're human. We're all human. I understand. Let me tell you a story."

"Viv," my dad interrupted. "Now is not the time."

"I think it is," she snapped back. "Sandy, after I divorced Sid, there was a time when he came back and said that he'd made a horrible mistake and wanted me back, so I gave him another chance. He used me for one night and took off. I got pregnant that night. I had a baby boy. I had to give him up for adoption, because I couldn't afford to raise two kids on my own. It was before your dad. Single moms had it too rough back then, and there was nothing else I could do. I'm human too. We're all human."

I stood silently for several minutes. My father watched me but didn't speak. I had no idea what I was thinking. It was too much. It had been the most overwhelmingly unbelievable, most difficult day of my life. I briefly wished that the tornado had killed me in Connecticut. I had to say something. I couldn't remember how to talk. A thousand thoughts passed through my mind.

Finally, I said the only thing I could come up with. "You mean, I have a brother that I've never met?"

"Yes," she replied. "A half brother."

That was the last thing I heard before I fainted and fell flat on my face on the floor.

For the first time since that first night in Connecticut, I had the dream during my unwilling unconsciousness. I heard the mysterious song and saw the reservoirs with the fall leaves. The song played on. I danced with the strange man. What did it mean? What was the special occasion? Who was the guy? What on Earth was that song?

When I woke, I was in the emergency room. Josh was looking at me from above. "I'm never telling you to call me at work again."

I felt a pain in my abdomen. I sat up and doubled over. The doctor came in at that moment and jumped to my side.

He put his hand gently on my shoulder and said, "Take a deep breath." I did, and the pain subsided a bit. "Good," the doctor said. "Relax, I'm Dr. Jacobson."

"Sandy," I groaned.

"Your parents said you fainted. What can you tell me?"

"She landed on her stomach when she passed out," Josh replied.

"You know her, I take it?" Dr. Jacobson asked.

"Only most of my life," I groaned. I doubled over again.

"What is it?" the doctor asked.

"Oh God!" I exclaimed. "Josh!" I grabbed his hand.

"What!" the doctor said again.

"Did you tell them?" Josh asked me.

"Not exactly," I replied.

"Get some Demerol," Dr. Jacobson said to a nurse.

"No," Josh said. "She's pregnant. Don't tell her folks." He looked at me. "I'm here kid. I'm right here with you."

"Thanks." That's the last thing I remember before I passed out again.

I had the dream for the third time. The reservoirs, the man, the place, the dance, and that song. Exactly the same. Where had I heard the song before? When I woke that time my surroundings were different yet again. I'd been admitted to the hospital. I was in a room, and it was daytime. My stomach ached, but the pain was much less. I noticed that I was hooked up to an IV bottle. Josh was there, asleep in the chair next to my bed.

My parents weren't in the room. It was normal for my parents to take off during a crisis. My grandma had been in surgery years earlier, and my grandpa had died of a heart attack in the waiting room. When Grandma woke up, someone had to tell her that her husband was dead. My parents had disappeared, leaving me with that chore. I was thirteen.

I remembered what my mom had told me about my half brother that she'd given away. My perfect mother had gotten knocked up on a one night stand with the guy who'd already screwed her over, and gave the kid away. That was pretty much everything that I'd never dreamed my mother would be capable of, and she'd done it all. And I was just like her.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I thought that I should find my brother, but then I wondered what I would tell him. My mother had my half sister. Then she had my half brother and gave him away. Then she had me. What if the guy had a good life, then I showed up to tell him that his real mother had kept the first child and the last child but threw him away? I would never be able to meet or know my own half brother. My mother's selfishness and lies, which I was at that moment beginning to fully comprehend, had made knowing my own brother impossible.

My mind began to wander. My anger and hurt were almost too much. I never wanted to see my mom again. I still couldn't believe that she could do something so selfish, and then lie to me for nineteen years about it. What if there were more lies? My dad and my half sister must have known. My half brother on my dad's side must have known. I wanted Stewart dead for everything he'd done to me. I had a lot of issues.

I looked at Josh. He always stood by me. Whenever I needed someone, he was there. He'd even offered to marry me and take care of my baby.

The baby! I made a noise that was a combination of a gasp, a screech, and a sob.

Josh startled out of his nap. "what is it?" he gasped as he nearly fell out of the chair. "Good morning. How do you feel?"

"I don't know." I put my hand over my eyes as though the light was hurting them. "I'm really confused. "What happened?"

Josh pressed his lips together and took a deep breath. He came and sat on the edge of my bed and took the hand without an IV in it. "You had a really bad night."

"Josh, just tell me."

"You had a miscarriage," he said.

The Destiny Dream
Part VIII

"I'm half living my life between reality and fantasy at all times."

-Lady Gaga

I pulled my hand away and covered my face with it. Tears were rolling down my cheeks.

Josh put his hand on my shoulder. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry. There was nothing they could do. They did a DNC. You're going to be fine and you're still perfectly able to have kids."

That didn't soothe me one little bit. "Why?" I sobbed. "What caused it?"

"It doesn't matter," he replied.

"Yes, it does," I said.

He took another deep breath. "It was most likely your fall, but there's no way to say for sure. Don't get crazy on me."

"Don't what?' I couldn't believe he was talking to me in such a patronizing tone. "How can I not get crazy? My mother caused my miscarriage, and I shouldn't go crazy?"

Josh had a puzzled look on his face. It was a crinkled up cross between pain, anger, and confusion. "Your mom?" he asked. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I told her I might be pregnant, and she told me she got knocked up and gave away a half brother that I never knew about. That's why I fainted."

"Wow. Your mom? She seems like kind of a prude."

"Apparently the prude part came later."

"They knew you were pregnant?"

"I didn't tell them for sure. I said might." I paused. "Did they find out?"

"No," he replied. "I swear. You're over 18. It's none of their business. I told the doctor to tell them you had a kidney stone."

"They think I've been passing a kidney stone?" I asked. "They bought that?"

"People will believe anything when a doctor tells it to them."

"What now?"

"At some point, we unhook that IV and see how you're really feeling."

I looked at the IV. Then I looked back at Josh. "What do you mean, how I really am?"

"That sucker's got Valium in it. Whether you realize it or not, you're real mellow right now. They thought that stress caused all of this, so drip, drip--no more stress."

"So, I might completely freak?"

"After I told them what happened, they were concerned. They don't want you to have a nervous breakdown. I told them you were tougher than that, but after hearing the brother thing..."

"After hearing the brother thing...what?"

"I'm not being condescending, or patronizing, or thinking of you as weak here. I'm thinking of human tolerance and where it might snap. You've been through an awful lot. A person can only take so much."

I put my hand over my eyes again. "I know. It's a lot. I can't believe that the only person I don't hate right now is you."

That was how my life got turned upside down. My parents didn't know what had really happened. I didn't want to talk to them about anything. Josh was right about one thing. I couldn't handle any more. Fortunately, my parents didn't want to discuss it any more than I did. They never wanted to discuss anything.

I knew I needed to relax and try to get on with my life, but the next several days of pills made me incoherent. I couldn't remember anything, I couldn't drive, and I couldn't even see clearly on those pills. I felt high all the time. After a couple of weeks, I threw the pills in the river. I wanted to feel again. I knew I would be miserable--how miserable I had no idea, but the pills made me numb. I had to deal with my feelings sooner or later, and I knew I would never be able to do that drugged up on Valium.

I stood on the bridge next to my town's tiny police station, dumping my pills in the river late one night, when Josh pulled up in a police car. He was dressed in his cop uniform.

He rolled down his window and pulled alongside me. "What in God's name are you doing?"

"Dumping these stupid pills in the river," I replied.

"Didn't the doctor explain why you should take them?"

"Yes. I'm fragile. I've had several traumas and extreme shock. So what?"

"Do you want to have a full blown breakdown? Why do you think I've checked on you every day?" Josh asked.

"I have to wake up sometime. It's all still there. I can't take these forever."

"You need to relax. You're very sensitive. All this stuff is going to get to you," he insisted.

"I have to feel. I can't go on like this," I argued.

"Can you deal with this?" he asked. "What do your parents say?"

"My parents? When was the last time that you remember my parents caring what I did?" I asked him. "It's my life. It's my choice. Is that clear?"

"Fine," Josh sighed. "I'm here if you need me."

"Thank you," I said.

"I should give you a citation for drugging the fish." He smiled, rolled up his window, and drove off.

I went home and slept. When I woke, the Valium had finally worn off. The sky had color, the things around me had definition and shape, and my mind was crystal clear. Oh, the pain that I felt. I felt as though my head was going to explode. I didn't know what was happening at the time, but I had a full-blown migraine. It made me sick at my stomach. Light hurt me. Thinking hurt me. Movement hurt me. I stayed in my room at all times, unless my parents were gone. I tried to sleep, but my aching mind kept on thinking, uncontrollably. I was angry at the whole world. Being angry all the time drove me crazy. It hadn't occurred to me that I was severely depressed. I wanted to run. I had to go far, far away. Eventually, I picked up the phone and called my grandma.

My grandma lived two hours away. We went to visit her once a month when I was younger, and I stayed with her for a week here and there. My dad complained about how much I was like her. She was my favorite relative and one cool old lady. I was her favorite too. She was the one who taught me how to cook, grow plants, and everything else I knew how to do. She was always there for me.

"Grandma? It's me," I said as soon as I heard her pick up the phone.

"Hello Punkin. What's up?' You sound upset."

She always knew. "I'm all right."

"I heard about the kidney stone. Why didn't you tell me?"

"What do you mean?" I replied. "It was a kidney stone, Grandma."

"Who do you think you're talking to, young lady? What really went on?"

"I can't tell you."

"You had a miscarriage."

How did she know? I swore she was psychic.

"Yeah," I admitted.

"I'm sorry sweetie," she said. "I wish you'd come to me."

"It's over now. I don't want to talk about it, please. The reason I called is because I need a favor."

"Anything honey."

"Can you say I'm staying with you if anyone asks?"

"Why?" she asked.

"I need to go away, and I don't want mom and dad to track me down. Please?" I begged.

"Do I get to know where you are and with whom?"

"I'll call you every day, and I'm going alone."

"Where?"

"I can't tell you. I'll be okay. Please?" I begged.

"Okay. I don't like it, but I understand. When you come home, we'll have a talk, all right?"

"Yes," I agreed.

"Okay, I love you," she told me.

"I love you too, Grandma. Bye."

I left a note for my parents. "Went to Grandma's to help her can pickles." That was all it said.

The Destiny Dream
Part IX

"I've found men are less likely to let petty things annoy them."

-Marilyn Monroe

My life has holes in it. I talk freely to many friends, family, and co-workers about experiences that I've had in my life. Many of those well known tales will be in this book. There are also the holes. These are the tales about times in my life that are virtually never mentioned in casual conversation. The following is one of those tales.

I didn't go to my grandma's. I never told anyone, except my grandma, where I was for two weeks.

I'd spent my whole life in Wabash County, Indiana. The city of Wabash was where many Chicago "businessmen" had their "vacation homes". When things got too stressful at work in Chicago, they would come and stay in Wabash for a while. Organized crime folk weren't nearly as bad, in my experience, as the guys in the movies. They didn't much care for laws, and they handled problems their own way. They came to our neck of the woods to get away. They hung out at social clubs like the Moose Club. They dressed nice in suits with ties and handkerchiefs in their jacket pockets. They drank fancy mixed drinks, and they smoked sweet smelling cigars. They stuck out in a crowd.

One of these visitors was Alex Martin who really liked Wabash. He liked it so much that he built a beautiful mansion and had a forest planted around it for privacy. He bought most of the local businesses in town and started a few new ones. When I was a teenager, Alex Martin owned most of Wabash, Indiana.

About the time I graduated from high school, Alex Martin died in a bizarre and fiery car crash. They had to identify him by his dental records. The accident coincided with the end of a trial which sent a whole bunch of his business acquaintances in Chicago to prison.

I was the same age as Alex's son, and I'd been around their mansion often over the years. When Alex left the house to the staff in his will, I was even more surprised. His kids moved to their house in Florida and didn't come back. And then Alex Martin was gone.

I saw a helicopter landing at 2:00 a.m. one night shortly after graduating from high school, at a helipad in the middle of a field just south of Wabash. When I saw Alex Martin get out of that helicopter, I went to his house the next day to find out what was going on. Long story short, there is a witness protection program, Alex, was in it, and he was legally dead.

But, I digress. Alex owned an island in the Atlantic that was traveled to by way of the Abaco Islands. It was a small island with an enormous mansion on it, a guesthouse, servant's quarters, a pier, and a nice beach. That's where I spent those two weeks.

Alex didn't ask any questions when I came to him. He did what I asked with no questions at all. I don't think he felt obligated. We'd always been friends.

When I told him I needed to get away, he called his pilot and had me flown to Nassau, where I boarded a sea plane and was flown to Hope Town on Elbow Cay in the Abacos. I'd never been to an island before. When my plane approached Elbow Cay, I could see that it was a barrier reef sticking out of the water, and there was an unmistakable red and white striped lighthouse in the middle. It was beautiful, and it was different from anyplace I'd ever seen.

The Piper Cub that we were flying in landed in the harbor, where I met a man named Maurice who was my escort from there to Martin Island. It was dusk when I arrived in Hope Town, so we stayed in cottages that Maurice had rented near the marina. It was barely dawn the next morning, when Maurice knocked on my door and announced that it was time to go.

Maurice took my bags and escorted me to a nearby dock, where he had a very expensive looking cabin cruiser which was my ride the rest of the way to Martin Island.

The island had been a personal getaway for Alex which his staff had inherited after his "death". Personally, I can't believe that none of Alex's former business associates ever put it together. Everyone probably thought that it was too obvious to be a ruse.

The island was somewhere northeast of Elbow Cay. Privacy was guaranteed. Alex owned it for many years, and it was kept by his staff until his real death many years later, at which point it was purchased by a theme park company, and they built a huge resort on it.

The day that I arrived it was cloudless, quiet and beautiful. I felt like I'd just stepped into the James Bond movie "Man With the Golden Gun", at the point where they landed on the mysterious island. It was paradise. The palm trees were so tall that when I looked up to see the tops, the sun hurt my eyes. The beach circled the entire island like the rim of a white china plate. The waves rolled, and the water was the same color as the stunning bright blue sky. If it weren't for the crests of the waves, you couldn't have seen where the water ended and the sky began.

I begged Alex to help me get away from it all, and there I was. I was as far as I could get from "it all". The best part was that no one could tell me to take my pills, or get a job, or see a doctor, or get on with my life. Over the years, I learned one thing about myself. I can't heal at home. Some people drink, some do drugs, some work out, and some become workaholics. I have to run away for a while and get my head together before I can think. That island was just what I needed, where no one I knew could find me except for a guy who was supposed to be dead.

The boat ride from Hope Town took hours. It sounds like a long ride, but it was a wonderful trip with the wind blowing my hair and the sun shining on my face. When I saw the only pier on Martin Island coming up, I was a little sad, but Maurice, the combination waiter, chauffer, and butler, promised to take me boating again during my visit.

Once we docked and unloaded my things as well as the supplies he'd brought from the market in Hope Town into a golf cart, Maurice and I took off to what Alex called his island "hut". What a hut. The estate was constructed from rock dug right out of the ocean floor. It was as pure a white as I'd ever seen. The building was a castle. Its corner towers and fortress styled walls gave the appearance of an enclosed village rather than a single building. It had a strange combination of medieval and tropical looks. The way the bright stone shone in the sunlight made me picture a bizarre tropical Camelot. My own personal Camelot perched right in the middle of nowhere in the Atlantic Ocean.

That "hut" had eight bedrooms, two guesthouses, six extraneous rooms like a library and a personal theater, an industrial kitchen, a formal dining room, and a living room so large that it had its own dance floor. There was a staff of four that lived on the island. They lived in two "cottages" that were about the same size as the house I was raised in. The estate was enormous and beautiful, with interior decor of bright festive colors, yet grand elegance. Even if I could get used to the luxury, I would get lost going from one end of the house to the other. Years later I cried when I read that a hurricane destroyed the island. The news didn't mention the estate.

The four employees were like a family and in some ways were. Maurice was a Jamaican fellow with a deep voice and dark skin, standing well over six feet tall. He took care of the boat, did the driving, and was the butler. Henry was also Jamaican, but short and stocky with a squeaky voice, and was the groundskeeper. He took care of gardens, beaches and the pool that looked like a secluded jungle grove with its own waterfall. The other two employees were women. There was Juanita, Maurice's wife. She was dark skinned, short, tubby, and also Jamaican. Stella was Henry's wife and was short, thin, athletic, dark skinned, Jamaican and much older than the other three. Juanita and Stella did the housework, the cooking and the laundry. They also made sure that Maurice and Henry worked. The four of them were a pleasant crew to have around.

Stella was obviously in charge. She met Maurice and me at the dock. She helped with my bags and escorted me to my quarters. Not only did I have a beautiful bedroom, but also a living or sitting room, a bathroom with a Jacuzzi, a walk in closet with dressing area and a full sized terrace with its own bistro table and chairs. The suite was decorated like a Mediterranean castle. The terrace had a Greco-Roman railing. All of the floors and the bathroom were white marble. The walls were Mediterranean Blue. The bed and other furniture was rattan and wicker; the curtains were bright floral as were the bed clothes and furniture cushions. The decorative accessories were seashells or sea related. The suite was bright, cheerful, and yet remained elegant.

Stella immediately rubbed me the wrong way. She was nice, but seemed to be watching me as though I were some sort of criminal. It only took a few minutes before it was driving me crazy. When she came into my room with my bags which she insisted I shouldn't have to carry, and started to unpack them for me, I felt about as uncomfortable as I ever had in my life.

"Stella, I can unpack my own clothes."

"That's quite all right my dear," she said without stopping, or even looking my way. "You're a guest here."

I couldn't watch her go through my things. "That's really okay." I walked over to her and tried to take a shirt out myself. Stella took it away from me. "No offense Stella..." I started.

"None taken," she replied as she hung the shirt on a hanger. "It's my job."

I felt way more uncomfortable than ever, and it was making me angry. "Do you mean, I'm not allowed to unpack my own things?"

"Look, I don't like to look through people's personal things, but I have to," Stella announced. "You know Alex well enough to be a guest on Martin Island, so I'm sure you'll understand that he has to have security everywhere he goes. I don't treat any one guest here different from any other."

Security. That had never occurred to me. "You're a security guard?"

Stella sighed. "My dear, I've been in this business a very long time. If you know as much as I think you do about Alex, then you must know that he only has the very best people working for him."

I felt ashamed. "I'm sorry if I sounded like I felt you were inadequate. I didn't think about security on a private island in the middle of the ocean. It' took me by surprise."

"I never blame anyone for being surprised that a little old Jamaican lady is the security person around here. I assure you, I'm very good at what I do."

"That's cool. But why did you go through my stuff? Do I look like I'm carrying a gun?"

"Of course not, dear." She came and sat with me. "I was afraid you might have brought a camera."

The Destiny Dream
Part X

"Sometimes I can be distracted by the glamour and the fabulousness."

-Katy Perry

Alex's staff weren't concerned about violence--at least not immediately. Alex had to remain hidden, even though it was in plain sight. They were worried about exposure. Suddenly, it all made perfect sense.

"You're right Stella," I said. "I do know a lot about Alex. I don't have a camera. I never even thought of bringing one with me."

"A lot of people would love to be famous for exposing one of the 'dead' people."

"Do you work for Alex?' I asked. "Or do you work for a government agency?"

"I work for Alex, but I used to work for the CIA."

"The CIA?"

"Yes." She smiled for the first time. "I was with the agency for 22 years. Then Alex hired me. I knew people at the FBI. This was a great private assignment, so I figured it would keep me active."

"I could live here for a living," I said.

"It's not bad," Stella said with a big grin and a wink. She stood and walked to the door. "You get settled in, dear. You look tired. We'll talk later about why you're running away."

I sat for a while after Stella left. Did I have to tell her my problems? She was a spy. She could find out anything she wanted to know without me telling her. I knew I was being paranoid. The mere mention of the CIA caused me paranoia. This was not what I'd planned. I was on a secret island owned by a "dead man" and run by a CIA agent and her companions. I wasn't sure what to make of all that, but the cloak and dagger stuff did take my mind off of my own problems.

Stella was right about one thing. I was exhausted. I'd been so busy running away that I hadn't slept for most of 48 hours. The first thing I did after Stella left was try out the king-sized canopy bed. I slept until late the next morning.

I had a wonderful view from my terrace. I started to go outside to get some sun on my face, but got distracted by a tray on my coffee table. Someone left me bagels with cream cheese and a Dr. Pepper. Someone had taken the time to find out every little thing about me. I stared at the tray for a minute, and then I put the paranoid thoughts out of my mind. Finding out stuff was what Stella did for a living. Apparently, she was good at it. I grabbed the Dr. Pepper and went outside to enjoy the view.

The next few days on the island were so exhilarating that I quit thinking about the baby, the ex-boyfriend, the missing half brother, and all the rest of my problems. Life on Martin Island was like living in a fantasy. There were relaxing times but no boredom, because Alex Martin had everything; boats, jet skis, ATV's, and satellite TV. I could do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. Even though my parents hadn't been around much, I'd never felt the kind of complete freedom that I felt on that island. I had no worries. I didn't have a job, I was broke, and I was living like a princess. My only obligation was to call my grandma every night.

After making my nightly call to my curious grandma, I settled in for my fourth night of falling asleep while watching TV in bed. That night's great old movie was "That Touch of Mink". Fabulous.

As I got my pillows comfortably set up, there was a knock at the door. "Come in."

Stella came in with a tray of chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk with vanilla flavoring. "I thought you might want a snack with your movie."

She set the tray down on the table next to my huge bed. "How's your grandma?" she asked as she plopped down in the rattan chair next to the bed.

"She's okay. My mom's bugging her about me and my whereabouts."

"Your grandma is covering for you while you disappear?" Stella asked.

"Yeah. I think she just did it 'cause she hates my mom."

"I take it this is your dad's mom?" Stella asked.

"Yeah. Grandma's pretty cool though. She taught me almost everything I know."

"I thought moms were supposed to do that," Stella commented.

I leaned my head back on my pillows and looked away.

Stella watched me for a minute. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I have some problems with my mom," I replied.

"I listen well," Stella offered.

I told her everything. She did listen well. It made me feel a little better to tell the whole, unabridged story to someone.

Two hours later I finished up with, "So, I had to get away before I self-destructed. That's when I called Alex."

"Wow. You're too young for this much shit," Stella replied.

"Tell me about it," I said.

Stella sat and absorbed my angry tone and sharp words as I described my lack of a childhood and my feelings about my parents.

"You seem like a good kid. Sensitive but gutsy and smart. Don't let this anger eat you up inside," she said.

A tear rolled down my cheek. "The lie isn't even the worst part," I said. "You have good instincts, right? I mean, a spy must have good instincts."

"I guess," she replied.

"I have great instincts, and my gut is telling me that there's something not right about my mom's story. I think her lie is just another lie."

Stella stared at me. "You think she made it up? Why?"

"Because whatever she did is worse than that." I paused. "I don't know what she really did but it's so bad that no one in my entire family has ever talked about it. No one has ever talked about it before. No one. Nine months of pregnancy is hard to hide. People must know. Even my grandma has never said a word. It has to be something bad if my grandma never told me."

"I should call you paranoid," Stella said. "But you have a point. You seem to have an incredible mind, and great instincts."

"You think so?" I asked. No one had ever called my mind incredible before.

"Let me ask you this. How did you figure out that Alex wasn't dead?" Stella asked.

"The staff inherited his properties and stayed on them, a helipad showed up down the road from his house right after the funeral, and he was driving a rental car when he died. The car part really did it," I explained.

"Why did the car part tip you off?" Stella asked.

"Because he could afford to rent a car, but why would he?" I said. "He got killed five miles from home. He had a Lotus, a Lamborghini, and a dozen other high priced vehicles. Why would he rent a Ford Taurus? He wasn't going to waste one of his babies to stage his own death."

Stella smirked. "I'll be damned. All the gangsters in Chicago missed that, and a teenager picks right up on it. You're good." She gestured toward the TV and the movie that I was watching on a German station. "Did you learn to speak German in school, or are you just looking at the picture on TV?"

I smiled. "I grew up with a family from Germany. I picked it up over the years. It was the guy who helped me through the miscarriage and his family."

"So, you see through your own mother's lies, you learned German on your own, and you're more observant than anyone in the Chicago Syndicate. Impressive."

"Wow, thanks."

"Why don't you do something with that great mind?" Stella asked me.

"I don't have money for college."

"Go to work for the government. They'll send you to school."

"You mean join the military?' I'd never even thought about such a thing.

"It's not a bad way to go," Stella said. "I joined the Marines when I was your age. I got a master's in criminal psychology, and I've had a great career."

Stella gave me a lot to think about. I didn't have a plane for my future. Getting a job and making a living wasn't working out. I didn't have anything definitive on the horizon. My life was a blank canvas. I laid awake thinking that night. At 2:30 a.m., I wondered if I would ever sleep again.

The next day Alex Martin joined me on his island. I was surprised, but Stella and the staff knew all about his visit. Alex came in by helicopter from parts unknown to avoid the public.

I was floating in the pool when Alex arrived. We had a weird relationship that no one understood but us. It was like I was another child of his, and he was the dad I could always count on. He seemed to understand me.

"I'm so happy to see you," I said.

"You were very upset when I sent you here," he replied. "You worried me."

"I'll be fine," I told him. "I have some things to figure out."

"Sounds heavy to me," he commented.

"Why is it you worry about me, and my own parents barely notice that anything is wrong?' I asked.

"Lack of time? Not everyone has my kind of time to spare. Being dead really cuts down on your schedule," he replied.

I laughed. "You know, you joke about this stuff, but you're the one who has Stella the spy here to make sure no one kills you."

"Touché," he said.

"Isn't it stressful knowing that people want you dead?" I asked.

"It would be stressful if I dwelled on it," he replied. "You dwell. Shit happens. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and move on. Water under the bridge and all that. You are a smart young woman. Don't self-destruct over pointless things. Above all remember, you can't raise your parents."

"Stella says I should join the military," I said.

"Stella says everyone should join the military. Why don't you just let me send you to college? You want to be an English teacher."

He remembered.

"I can't let you pay for my education," I replied.

"Why not?" he asked.

"I wanted to study English to learn how to write," I answered. "You wouldn't want to fund a starving would-be novelist."

"If you want to write, then write. Did you write well in high school?"

"Yes, I got A's."

"Then, write," he ordered me. "You have the time."

"What if it sucked?" I asked.

"So what?" he replied. "If you want to do something, just do it. If it doesn't work out, try something else or try again. You need to be perfect in your mind. No one else cares if you have flaws."

"I know. What's wrong with being perfect though?"

"There's nothing wrong with being perfect!" he yelled. "It would be great! Hell, I would love to be perfect! There's just one little problem."

"What's that?" I asked.

He flung both of his arms in the air. "It's not possible!" He laughed. "No one's perfect. Not even God, himself is perfect."

"God is perfect," I argued.

"No, God is not perfect. Look around you," Alex said. "If God were perfect, life would be perfect. God made all that is good, but he forgot that where there is good, there is evil; where there is happy there is sad, etc. You can't have the good without the bad. How about Noah and the flood to start over? God is not perfect, so how can you be?"

I leaned back in my floating chair and closed my eyes to the sun. I didn't want to discuss me or my future any more.

Alex didn't push. He left me alone and went inside the castle.

A few minutes later, Alex re-emerged in different clothes.

I opened one eye to him. "What?"

"You hate sitting around," he said.

I was still annoyed about the lecture. "Yeah, I'm so anxious, I'm shaking."

"Sarcasm," he said. "That's the girl I know."

"Thanks."

"You've never just sat in the sun in all the time I've known you," he observed.

"It is a little dull around here, but it's fine. I need time to think."

"Are you having any luck?" he asked.

"Not really," I answered.

"Then let's find something to do."

"Where do dead men go for fun?" I asked, sarcastically.

"Come with me, and I'll show you," he said.

I wasn't sure what to think. Alex Martin was supposed to be dead. Where did he intend to go? I was surprised that no one had found him already, but Alex Martin never ceased to amaze me. He insisted that I get out of my swimsuit and put on some actual clothes. Forty minutes later, Maurice came ashore in a dinghy to escort us to a beautiful 100-foot yacht. Maurice was the owner, and it was used for long trips.

I'd never traveled by yacht before. Maurice showed me my room. The yacht slept eight comfortably. It also had a formal dining area, relaxing living area, a full service galley, and two full baths. There was plenty of lounging room on the deck. The whole staff was on board and ready to travel. It reminded me of Jackie O's parties that's I'd read about off the coast of Greece. It amazed me that I could be flat broke and living like Jackie Onasis.

The Destiny Dream
Part XI

"I think it's important to have mystique."

-Joan Jett

I settled into my state room. I unpacked my things. Once Stella realized I posed no threat, she stopped going through my clothes. That made me happy.

Maurice and Henry winched up the dinghy, started the engines, and we were off. I got a Dr. Pepper from the bar's fridge, and lounged on the deck. I had the sun on my face, and the wind through my hair. It was luxury, and, unlike on a motorcycle, I didn't get bugs in my teeth.

I enjoyed the ride for hours before I realized that I had no idea where we were going. Stella had been listening to her walkman and dozing off next to me the entire time. I reached over and tapped her arm. "Stella!"

"What!" Stella said. "You startled me." She put her hand on her chest and took a moment to catch her breath. "What is it?"

"Sorry, I scared you," I said. "I just realized that I have no idea where we're going."

Stella giggled. "Alex didn't tell you? We're going to Horta."

"What's a Horta?" I asked.

"It's a city on Faial Island," she replied. "The Azores Islands?"

"The Azores?" I asked.

"The Portuguese Islands? They're beautiful. The Atlantic Ocean's answer to Hawaii." Stella explained.

"All I know about the Azores is that my dad was there when he was in the Navy."

"Yes. There's still a small refueling station there."

"How far is it?" I asked.

"Not far. They're in the middle of the Ocean. We'll be there in a day or so," Stella explained. "We'll be back in less than a week."

"It sounds like fun, but I don't have a passport," I said.

"They don't monitor passports unless you fly in," Stella said. "We've been there many times without passports. That's why Alex likes it. He can be anonymous."

"This is his hang out?" I asked.

"Pretty much," Stella answered. "There aren't many places he can go to get out."

It was my first trip out of the country, realistically. I didn't count Windsor, Ontario or that quick stop in Hope Town and Nassau. I'd never lived like that before. I'd never even dreamed of traveling on a luxury yacht. It felt like a cross between "James Bond" and "Fantasy Island". Lord knows we had the spies and tropical paradise.

People in Horta didn't speak much English. Everything was bright colored like Mardi Gras, but still old world European. It was bright and festive but dotted with ancient churches. There were Hydrangeas growing everywhere. Horta didn't fit my definition of a city. It didn't have giant avenues and skyscrapers. It was filled with narrow streets and colorful stucco buildings that rose no higher than four stories. There seemed to be more yachts in Horta than there were houses. Alex said it was the biggest port city in the Azores.

We stayed at the Hotel Faial Resort. The hotel sat on top of a cliff overlooking the harbor and Pico Island and its volcano. It was exciting and calming at the same time. All I wanted was to order a drink with a little umbrella in it and listen to music in the sun.

We rented mopeds to run around town. We saw many sights, including historic churches, and I enjoyed my first taste of foreign culture.

We went shopping. I got a beautiful handmade shawl for my mom. It was metallic antique gold lace with colorful flowers and birds woven into the pattern. It was gorgeous, and I knew my mom would wonder where it came from.

Alex hadn't been out for a while. The Azores are hot and rainy in the summer, but in September the weather was beautiful. It was North of regular hurricane routes and balmy well into the fall. I was treated as an adult there. Alex bought me all kinds of beautiful souvenirs. I gave most of them away. How would I explain them? I wasn't supposed to be there any more than Alex was supposed to be alive.

After shopping and riding mopeds all over the city, we returned to the harbor area where we'd docked the boat and went to the area's only nightclub. They had a Portuguese Reggae music band. It felt like Jamaica, but in Portuguese.

Those nights in Horta were the first nights that I ever went out drinking legally. Stella taught me about Blue Hawaiians, Pina Coladas, Margaritas, and Mojitos. Sweet drinks with little umbrellas and rum that kicks your ass.

I decided the last night in the Azores that I wanted to see the world. That surreal place was everyday to those people. I wanted to see more places that were different from my world. I was hooked on travel, and that desire to travel would eventually change me and my life forever. That trip changed my view of the world, and my dreams for my future.

We stumbled back to the yacht as the clock in Sao Salvador Church was chiming midnight and fell into our beds. We'd checked out of the hotel that day, and it was time to leave. I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to face my problems. I hit my pillow, and the dream happened again. The reservoir, the guy, the special occasion, the dance, and that damn song. What was that song? I woke in a sweat again. The boat was moving. It was time to go.

I climbed to the deck, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge on the way. Bottled water was something that I discovered on that trip. Stella told me that it was the next big thing. When I emerged top side, Maurice was alone in the steering room.

Maurice was quiet. He had only answered questions and announced things since I'd met him. He was professional, he barely glanced my way when he saw me. "Good morning miss."

"Hi," I replied. "Are we going back?"

"Yes. We can't stay long with Mr. Martin. It's not safe for him, you know. He likes to escape, but he forgets how dangerous his situation is."

"Did you hijack him in the middle of the night?" I asked.

"Yes. It's the way I always do it," Maurice said. "Are you all right miss? You're pale."

"I didn't sleep well."

"A bad dream?" Maurice asked.

"Why do you think I had a bad dream?" I asked.

"You look sweaty and distracted. That's how I am when I've just awakened from a disturbing dream."

"It wasn't a bad dream," I said. "What did you say though, disturbing. That describes it."

"Would you like to talk about it?" he asked. "I listen well, I'm told."

"Is that so?"

I got a smile. "Yes. Dreams are a thing in my family. My grandma was what they call a seer in Jamaica. She interpreted dreams."

"A seer?" I asked.

"A psychic, or a fortune teller," Maurice said. "I don't believe in it as a rule, but most dreams mean something. There's a science to it."

"I feel weird," I said.

"I understand. It's private," Maurice responded.

He went back to steering the boat and watching the ocean. We sat in silence for about fifteen minutes while I drank my water.

"It's a stupid dream, and it repeats," I said sometime later.

"Recurring dreams are regarded as warnings or prophecies," he said. "What happens?"

"Nothing, really." I took a deep breath. "It started when I was in Connecticut a few months ago. There was this beautiful place with two reservoirs in the mountains. It starts with a picture of that place in my head. Then it changes. I'm dressed up and dancing with a man. I don't know what he looks like, and I can't tell where we are. That's it."

"A destiny dream," he said matter of factly. "What kind of music?"

"I didn't say anything about music," I replied.

"Destiny dreams have a song. The music has actually driven people mad before."

"I don't know what the song is. I don't think I've ever heard it before," I said.

"You don't know the song?" Maurice asked.

"I can't place it. I've tried. Why?"

"My grandmother would call the dream real."

"Real?" I asked.

"A glimpse into the future, is what I meant," he answered.

"Does your grandma believe in destiny?"

"She says that if the signs are there, they should be followed. My grandmother has sat and listened to people's dreams my whole life. She said that most people's dreams were caused by what they ate. What you told me was unusual. It's full of signs."

"Should I follow the signs?" I asked. "Because, I don't have a clue what they mean."

"One day it will be clear," Maurice said.

Stella popped her head through the doorway. "Good morning! When did you leave?" she asked Maurice.

"2:30."

Stella turned to me. "How are you today, miss?"

"Fine," I said. All that stuff that Maurice had said about destiny dreams and stuff had me a little freaked out.

"What's with her?" I heard Stella ask Maurice as I went below deck.

"She's having a destiny dream," Maurice replied.

I didn't hear the rest.

The Destiny Dream
Part XII

"It is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the submerged truth sometimes come to the top."

-Virginia Woolf

My trip had been at least somewhat successful. I'd gotten away. We arrived back at Martin Island, and the following morning Maurice took me back to Hope Town. I spent the night in the cottage at the harbor once again, before the Piper came and flew me to Nassau. Then I flew back to Indiana. That was my only trip to Martin Island, the Abacos, or the Azores. I never saw Alex Martin again. He died for real some years later, and his island was trashed by a hurricane named Bonnie. After that a well known theme park bought it to use as a stop on their cruise line.

That trip taught me many things. The most important lesson was to use anger as a cure. Instead of getting bogged down with depression, I get angry and take action in a productive way to solve my problems. Anger has been a helpful tool in my life. That was only the first time that Anger spawned action in me.

When my charter arrived in Wabash, I went to see my grandma, since she'd been covering for me for two weeks. I put my luggage in my car and made the two-hour drive south to her house in Middletown, Indiana. Middletown was smaller and quieter than North Manchester. There was virtually no traffic where my grandma lived.

Grandma came out to greet me when I pulled into her driveway. She worried about me, which was good, because almost no one else did. When I got out of the car, I saw the piercing, judgmental mom look that I rarely got from her. She gave me a big hug and a kiss.

"How do you intend to explain the tan?" she asked.

"Hi Grandma! It's great to see you too," I replied.

"Oh, of course I'm happy to see you," she scoffed. "I just don't want you to get caught. Your mom would never let me hear the end of it. She would guilt me about it with every breath for the rest of my life."

"No she wouldn't. She doesn't want to deal with me. She's glad to be rid of me for a while," I said.

We went inside and sat down in the living room. Grandma looked at me. "I heard about some of what happened."

"Let me guess, whatever Dad could tell you without actually talking about it?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Did you know about what she did?" I asked her. Grandma didn't have to say a word. I knew she knew the whole truth. I also knew she wasn't going to tell me all of it. "Of course you did. That's why you've always hated her."

"I don't hate her," she replied.

"Sure, neither do I," I snapped. "I ran away from home at 19."

"Where were you?" she asked.

"I have friends. I went to visit one of them," I replied.

"What did you decide to do?" Grandma asked.

"I need to make a future for myself. I want to do something that lets me travel around. Then I want to write about it. Articles, a book, a movie, I don't know. There's a whole world out there, and I want to see it," I told her.

"You should travel," she agreed. "When you talk about it, you get a sparkle in your eyes."

"A sparkle?" I asked.

"That wild glint. I've told your father for years that you're a free spirit. Anyone who tries to tame you will find that you'll storm right out of their life before you become a homebody," she said.

"I'm not wild," I protested.

"You're not a jungle animal, but when someone tries to control you, you buck. No one can tell you what to do with your life. You need to figure it out on your own. You've seen your future. All you have to do is find it."

Could she have any idea what was on my mind? "What do you mean, I've seen my future?"

"I called Anne to see if that was where you'd run off to, and she told me that you've been dreaming. What are the dreams about?"

"It's just a stupid dream," I said.

"One dream? I got the impression there were more," she replied.

"It's always the same. Why does everyone think it's so important?" I asked.

"Because you don't dream," Grandma replied.

My grandma was old, but she was sharp. I wasn't used to dreaming. I couldn't remember a single dream except this one that was torturing me.

"A Jamaican guy told me that it was a destiny dream," I told her.

"I see," Grandma said. "You choose not to believe what you don't understand. Seers see. You can't ignore it. You'll understand soon enough. Seeing your own destiny is a gift."

"I'm not psychic. I'm having a stupid dream. I'll make my own future," I insisted.

"The songs convinced me," she said.

"Songs?"

"Your dream has a song?" she asked.

"So what if it does?" I snapped.

"That's a destiny dream."

"I'm not Nostradamus."

"Child, most people have dreams about their destinies. Most people aren't aware of it. You're seeing the signs. Most people don't see those. You're lucky. Do yourself a favor and follow those signs. Do it the easy way."

"What if I decide I don't want to?" I asked.

"You'll still end up where you were destined to be, you'll just be doing it the hard way," Grandma replied. "Why must you do everything the hard way?"

"You say I have to do everything my own way," I said. "I guess the hard way is my way."

I spent a few days at Grandma's. My mom knew that I hadn't been there most of the time. Grandma said that I was old enough to tell my parents to go to hell anyway. I eventually told Grandma about my trip. She never told anyone else.

It was time for me to get on with things and go home. That was one of the longest drives ever. Every second dragged on as I awaited the ambush my parents would have planned for me.

I arrived at dinnertime. When I walked in, my parents were having dinner. They just said "Hi" and asked if I'd had a good time. They asked me if I wanted to join them. No ambush. They had no idea where I'd actually been. They told me about their own activities. They just didn't care. I wanted to scream at them, but I saw no point.

After dinner that night we sat in the living room and watched TV. My dad fell asleep, and my mom sat. I didn't really want to talk to them or look at them. I didn't want to feel that way about my parents, but after the miscarriage and the adopted half brother, I couldn't help it. That situation changed my feelings about my parents forever.

The Destiny Dream
Part XIII

"Naturally, Brie and I bicker, like, every 10 minutes about everything in life."

-Nikki Bella

The following day, an old boyfriend of mine that was still a good friend, called me from college. Zach had cheated on me while we were dating. I'd been mad at him for a while, but he turned out to be a really good friend. Since then, we'd been very close.

Zach was from Fort Wayne, Indiana. We'd met at a wrestling meet where I'd been a young and unusual coach and he'd been a competitor. He was a great wrestler and had even gone to the state tournament once. Currently, he was going to a culinary arts school. My mother had called him to see if I was with him while I was gone. She'd told him that Stewart had dumped me.

"A blind date? Have you lost your mind?" I asked Zach when I heard his plans for me to go on a blind date with his college roommate.

"Brett is a great guy, and he's going to fix me up with his best girl that's a friend," he replied.

"Fine, I'll go, but I'll hate him. I hate all men. Except you."

"Great. I'll let him know what a fun loving and caring person you are."

"So, are you bringing his best girl who's a friend on this date?" I asked. "What's her name?"

"I hadn't planned to do this as a double date," Zach replied. "I thought that one blind date at a time would be better."

"If I'm going on a blind date, then you're going with me," I snapped.

"Fine. I'll have Brett set it up," Zach said. "Her name is Cassie."

"Sounds like a hooker name," I scoffed.

"Be nice," Zach commented.

"I am," I giggled. "So, double date?"

"Okay," Zach agreed. "I'll talk to Brett, and we will pick you up tomorrow night."

"What about Cassie the hooker?" I demanded.

"She lives in Akron, so we'll pick you up on the way," he said. "I'll call you back later with the details. You might all have to go pick up a truck in Illinois with me, because that's what I'm supposed to do tomorrow."

The next day I sat around, dreading that date. I didn't want to meet anyone. I hoped that Zach hadn't hooked me up with a serial killer or something. Zach would surely know if there was something wrong with this Brett guy after living with him for a year. Or would he?

I remembered the last blind dates that Zach had set up. He'd brought down a whole car full of blind dates for my friend Alicia's sixteenth birthday. One of the guys had gotten drunk, torn up the neighborhood, and gotten arrested. Hopefully Brett would be a better date.

I spent the day thinking about the military. It didn't sound bad. I could travel and learn a trade. I could get away from my parents and go somewhere not flat, with no corn or soy bean fields. I'd decided to join the Army, but I was still too chicken to dive in. I wanted to be an airplane mechanic or on the maintenance crew of a chopper. I really wanted to fly. I'd thought about the Air Force, but I was afraid that they wouldn't want me. I always settled for what I thought I could achieve, instead of aiming for what I really wanted. Why, I didn't know.

Finally, after waiting around all day, Zach pulled up at my parents house with Brett. Brett was attractive. He was at least six feet tall with dark hair and puppy dog eyes. He was in good shape and looked pretty good in the Levis he was wearing. I watched them walk to the door.

When I opened the door, Zach was smiling. Brett on the other hand, stood gaping at me as if he'd seen a ghost. I put out my hand--carefully. I wondered what I'd done.

"Hi, nice to meet you," I said. "I'm Sandy."

Brett stared at me for a long time. "I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I'm Brett. Nice to meet you." He looked at Zach. "I guess we should go."

"Are you ready kiddo?" Zach asked me.

"Sure," I said. "Let's go."

We started to walk to the car. "I can't wait to meet Cassie," Zach said.

At that moment, Brett tripped and nearly fell down as he walked with us to the car.

"Are you okay?" I asked Brett.

"I'm just a little nervous," Brett stammered. "I'll loosen up. This is going to be fun."

I'd only just met Brett, but something seemed odd about him. He seemed very uncomfortable.

"Okay," I said. "I don't bite."

"Good." Brett watched me for a moment. "Do you like surprises?"

"I guess, why?" I asked.

"I think Cassie will really surprise you," Brett replied.

"Why?" I asked him as we all climbed into the car.

"Yeah, why?" Zach asked as he pulled away from the curb.

"Um..." Brett stammered. "You're really going to be surprised how much you and Cassie have in common," Brett said to me.

That was my first impression of Brett. I thought he was odd to say the least. I didn't speak the rest of the way to Cassie's house in Akron.

We pulled into the driveway at Cassie's house half an hour later. Zach got out and opened the door for me, while Brett climbed out of the back seat. I followed the two of them to the door. Brett rang the doorbell.

The door opened. My life had been surreal for weeks, but nothing in my life would ever compare with the moment when Cassie opened that door. It was me. Everything about her looked exactly like me. She even wore her hair the same. In that flash of an instant, I realized what my parent's lie was. This was why my grandma hated my mom. This was why my half sister left home and never moved back the day after she'd turned 18. At that moment, all of it came together in one gigantic paradox of total clarity. The sibling who'd been given away at birth was not an older brother by a first husband; it was my identical twin sister, Cassie.

Her face looked as horrified as mine must have looked. I hoped she'd at least known that she had been adopted. She didn't say a word to anyone. I couldn't speak either. I would never be that shocked again. Looking back, nothing has ever compared to that moment.

"Oh my God," Zach said.

Brett took control of the situation. It was a good thing he'd known Cassie's family half of his life. "Cassie, are your parents here?"

Cassie snapped out of her trance. "Uh, no."

We couldn't stop staring at each other.

"Good," Brett said. He pushed everyone into the house. "Let's sit down and talk."

We stumbled into the living room. Cassie and I sat down on matching sofas and stared across the room at each other. Zach sat down next to me, and Brett sat next to Cassie.

Brett broke the silence. "Well, this is quite a situation. I've spent the last half hour trying to figure out how to handle this, and I still have no idea."

I looked at Zach for a moment. I saw the total shock on his face. I smacked him in the back of the head with the flat of my hand. "Didn't you exchange pictures of us or anything?" I yelled at him. "How the fuck did you not know this?" I turned to Cassie. "I'm so sorry. Please tell me you at least know about your family history."

"From the look on your face, I'd say I know more about mine than you know about yours," she said. "Yes, I knew I was adopted."

"Thank God," I said.

"I didn't know I had a twin," she said. "Did you have any idea?"

"I only found out I had a sibling who'd been given away a few weeks ago," I said. "I was told you were an older half brother."

"Well, I am a tomboy," Cassie replied. "My parents didn't tell me much. Now I know why."

I snorted. "I knew my parents lied to me, but I never dreamed of this."

"Excuse me," Zach said. "This is probably a stupid question, but how did identical twins get separated?"

"I'll tell you how," I snapped. "My bitch of a mom ditched one of us." I looked at Cassie. "I'm jealous of you."

"Why? You got to grow up with your real mom," Cassie fired back.

"Our real mom ditched you," I said. "She doesn't care about me either. I had to raise myself. She did nothing but lie to me. I've spent my whole life knowing what an inconvenience I was to her and dad. Damn, poor you missed out on all that." I stood up. "Somebody take me home."

"Maybe you should calm down a bit," Cassie said.

"Calm down?" I asked. I pointed at Cassie. "You don't get it. All I ever wanted was a sister. The only sister I knew about left when I was three. I lived a total lie for 19 years, and all I have to show for it is some bitch who says I had the good end of the deal." I stormed out and went to Zach's car. I was overwhelmed and angry. I wanted to beat someone with a Louisville Slugger, but I wasn't quite sure who to beat.

Mom lied. Dad lied. Twins? I wondered if the lies stopped there. What else might they have done? What did my grandma and older half sister know? Now there was a new sister. I hated her immediately. I got the good end of the deal. She had no idea. I'd spent my whole life trying to earn my parents' love, and I'd always been aware that I was a burden to them. Cassie had no idea what she'd missed out on.

The Destiny Dream
Part XIV

"The truth is always more heroic than the hype."

-Jessica Lynch

Zach got in the car and shut the door. "If I had a clue what to say, I'd say something."

Tears rolled down my face. The front of my jacket was soaked from them. "Just when it can't get any worse—when the most horrible thing I could have ever imagined happens, and I think it has to get better—that bottom just drops out, and it manages to get worse."

"How could you have any idea?" he asked. "Look, it's not your fault. You came down pretty hard on Cassie. She's just as shocked as you are."

"I'm sorry, but she said I had it good, because I got the parents. Trust me, I got the short end." I paused to blow my nose. "She can kiss my ass."

"She told me to get the hell out," Zach said. "She can kiss my ass too, I guess."

"Sorry, but I'd be feeling weird about you right now too, if I were her," I said.

"Why? What did I do?" he snapped.

I hit him on the shoulder with the palm of my hand as hard as I could.

"Ow!" he yelled. "What's that for?"

"She got fixed up with her unknown twin sister's ex boyfriend," I explained. "Awkward."

"Thanks for pointing that out," he said sarcastically. "I didn't know."

"You and I are also very close. I dumped you. She's my identical twin. What if she thinks you knew what she looked like ahead of time?" I said. "You have no idea what she might be thinking."

Zach let his head fall back on the headrest and silently stared out the windshield.

We sat for a moment. "Maybe we should just go," I said.

"I'm Brett's ride," he replied.

"Oh yeah," I groaned.

The front door of the house opened. Brett and Cassie walked to the car. They climbed into the back seat. Cassie leaned up to us. "So, you didn't have any idea that you had a twin right?"

"No," I said without turning to look at her. "I just found out that I had a sibling a few weeks ago. I had no idea my parents' lies were of this magnitude. I thought you were an older half brother."

"Is it true you lost a baby recently?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered her flatly. "Who told you that?"

"Doesn't matter," she replied. "It seems like you've had a lot to deal with. I'm sorry for that."

"When I told mom I thought I was pregnant, she told me I had a half brother that she gave away. The shock made me faint. The fall killed my baby. That's a day in the life of the good end," I snapped. I started to cry.

She put her hand on my shoulder. "God, I'm sorry. I can't imagine."

I pushed her hand away. "You're right. You can't. They feel no remorse. They haven't even said that they're sorry. They never do. That's what I got for winning the coin toss and getting the parents." I sniffed more tears and blew my nose again. "Lucky me."

"I can't believe this. I've wanted to meet my parents ever since I was told I was adopted. I guess the grass is always greener on the other side," Cassie said.

"That's probably why Marian moved out so young," I said. "She barely stops in on holidays."

"Who's Marian?" Cassie asked.

"Oh, shit," Zach muttered.

"Our older half sister on mom's side. Dad has a son named Robert from his first marriage too. Mom said she gave a boy away too. I don't know if that's true or not. Hell, there may be kids all over for all I know."

"What a bitch," Cassie said. "Who does that?"

"Our mother," I replied. "Welcome to the family."

"I know this is crazy, but I think that this would be a great chance for you two to get acquainted. This date is obviously not happening, but why don't we go ahead and go to Illinois and pick up that stupid truck that Zach bought?" Brett said to Cassie and me.

"He's right," Cassie said to me. "You're the only sister I've ever met."

"True, we should get to know each other a bit," I replied. "Somehow, we have to get them for this. Giving away random kids is messed up."

"Deal," Cassie agreed.

"So, we're going?" Zach asked. "It's not too weird? It's not too uncomfortable?"

We all agreed that we should go.

"It's a long drive," Zach told us. "Do you want to spend four hours in cars together?"

"Yes," Cassie and I said.

Zach looked back at Cassie. "Are we okay? I really didn't know."

Cassie got out of the car. "Swap seats with me," she said to me. "A date is a date, and the guys are paying."

"Good point," I agreed.

Cassie and I swapped seats.

Zach started the car. "So, we're paying, huh?"

"Oh yes, you are," I said. "And in so many ways. You owe me one for not killing you."

"We should have exchanged photos?" Zach asked.

"No shit," I said.

"Point taken," Zach and Brett replied.

That night was a truly unique experience. Cassie and I talked a lot and learned a lot about each other. In the end, after hearing my horror stories, she was glad she hadn't been exposed to our biological family. After that experience I know that my first thoughts were right and that adopted siblings were better off not knowing how carelessly they may have been discarded.

I was glad that I'd met Cassie. She was nice and smart. She'd been valedictorian of her graduating class and knew exactly what she wanted to do with her life. She was a lot more together than I was. She'd gone to a vocational high school and was an auto mechanic. She planned to open her own auto repair garage within five years. She had a plan, unlike me. I was wandering aimlessly and having ridiculous dreams.

We drove to Danville, Illinois, where Zach was supposed to pick up the truck he'd bought from a guy down the hall at his apartment complex. Cassie and I decided that the guys should drive the car back, and we would take the truck. We weren't done talking yet, and wanted some more new sister time.

We didn't get back to Cassie's house until the wee hours of the morning. Cassie and I planned to stay in touch and get to know each other better. I had a sister--a twin sister. It was a bittersweet moment in my life. I'd always wanted a sister closer to my age than Marian. Be careful what you wish for. My grandma used to say that. I didn't ever want to see my parents again after meeting Cassie on a double blind date. Going home that night was harder than going home had ever been.

When we were done saying good night at Cassie's house, the guys went to the cars, Brett was going to drive Zach's car and Zach and I would go in the truck. For me, the date had been the worst bust of any date I'd ever been on.

Cassie gave me a hug. "Weird night, huh?"

"That's putting it mildly," I replied.

"I have a question to ask that may make it even weirder," Cassie said.

"Okay."

"I know you and Zach used to date, and you're my sister, but would you be mad if I asked him out?" Cassie asked.

"I guess it would be okay," I replied.

"That's not too weird?"

"That doesn't even crack my top 10," I said.

Zach didn't say much on the way to my house. He pulled up in front of my house and turned the truck off. "Sandy, I'm so sorry."

"You're still an idiot, but I forgive you," I said. I laughed. "I'm the one who should be sorry. What a mess."

"You didn't know either," he replied. "I'm actually glad I could be there for you when it happened."

"I'm glad you were there too."

"I don't know what Brett thought about it all."

"Brett was doomed from the start anyway. I don't want to date anyone," I said. "By the way, do you like my sister?"

"I actually kind of do," Zach said.

"Good, cause she likes you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you should be getting a call."

"It doesn't bother you?"

"I don't think so. It's hard to tell. So many things bother me right now."

"Sorry."

"Not your fault," I said. I gave him a hug and got out of the truck. "Tell Brett I'm sorry." I waved and walked away.

That night it happened again and again. I had the dream multiple times. The reservoirs in fall, the special place, the man, the dance, and that song. I woke up after each time in a cold sweat. That dream was driving me crazy. That song was driving me crazy. I had to make it stop. I had to do something. Did it mean something? I didn't know. I didn't believe in things like destiny dreams. I wanted to get on with my life. I had no idea where to start, so I took the only advice I had.

Later that morning, still groggy from disturbing destiny dreams and questionable sleep, I took Stella's advice and called the closest recruiting center for the United States Army.

The Destiny Dream
Part XV

"I can't lie, I did a lot of really, really stupid things, and it was because it was my way of crying for help."

-Kelly Osbourne

I didn't speak with my parents at all the following day. I'd avoided them for weeks. They apparently didn't want to talk. I wanted so badly to tell them that I'd met Cassie. I figured that would make mom keel over with a heart attack. Stress was killing me. I had to get away again and for more than a couple of weeks. I couldn't wait to run away and join the Army. In a couple of years I would be home from the military, and maybe then I could discuss it.

Like grandma always said, "If wishes were horses, I'd have a stable full." I wished my parents had never told me anything, and I definitely wished I'd never gone with Zach and Brett that night.

My mom didn't say much when the Army recruiter showed up at our door later that day. She sat nearby and listened to us, but didn't say a word.

The recruiter's name was Sergeant Bart Anderson. He was an imposing figure, standing well over six feet tall, with no neck and muscles on his muscles. He was in his late forties, so in addition to his size, he had enough lines in his face to make him constantly look angry. He was a bit scary and immediately caused me to have second thoughts.

"You took the ASVAB right before graduation. It's good for three years, so that's no problem." He flipped through some notes. "You got one of the highest scores ever on the test." He looked me up and down for a moment. "You seem to be in good shape. I need to ask you a few questions."

"Okay," I replied.

"This isn't a test," he said. "There are some personal questions. It's routine."

"Okay."

"Could you be pregnant?"

"No."

"No chance whatsoever?"

"None."

"Do you have any injuries or medical conditions that might hinder you physically?"

"I don't think so," I stammered.

"Do you have a criminal record?"

"No."

"Once again, I'm not intending any offense, but do you use any illegal drugs or drink alcohol?

"No," I said.

"Are you recovering from any addictions?"

"No," I said, feeling offended.

"I'm really sorry. They make us ask everyone," he said. "It's standard."

"Fine," I groaned. "What else?"

"Just one. Were you born in the United States?"

"Yes."

"Okay. That's the official questionnaire," he said. "Why the Army?"

"I want to see the world and train for a career," I said. Sergeant Anderson stared at me, silently, waiting. "That's it. I want to learn to fix planes."

"With your scores you can do anything you want," Sergeant Anderson said. "You could pursue something far more challenging."

We talked for quite a while. By the end of our visit, he seemed satisfied that I would make a good soldier, He said he would make arrangements for me to go for my Armed Forces Physical and to have me sworn into the United States Army.

I was getting away from my parents and traveling the world. I would get a job with United Airlines in a couple of years in a town far, far away, and I would have a great life as an airplane mechanic. I was in charge of my own destiny. No one was running or ruining my life. Joining the Army was my ticket to freedom and prosperity. Where I got that view of the Army I have no idea. I don't know what the hell I was thinking. I was just hell bent on self destruction.

My mom didn't say much, and neither did my dad when he heard. My dad was a Navy man. He'd become an engineer there. He did well, thanks to the Navy. He'd gotten his education while he was there, so when he finished his tour he was ready to find a job and go to work. Skipping college seemed expedient to me.

The next day, Sergeant Anderson called with my itinerary. In two weeks I would travel by bus to Indianapolis for my physical and swearing in. We would discuss my training, and I would get my date to report to basic training, or as everyone in the free world calls it, boot camp.

In two weeks I would start a whole new life. I couldn't wait. I was on my way to a good future. Forget destiny and dreams. I had a plan.

You know what they say about the best laid plans. I had two weeks. You wouldn't think that anything would happen in two weeks. I didn't want anything to happen, but I was in for another big surprise.

It was Friday night, and I was bored. I called up Jen, a good friend of mine that I hadn't seen in a while. She was barely five feet tall with red hair and freckles and a year younger than me, but equally bored. Finding activities as a teen that was out of school, but not old enough to go to bars was a challenge in my small town. Jen and I were so bored that night that we got creative to come up with a way to entertain ourselves. My Grandma used to worry when I came up with stupid ideas, because I was bored. "No good can come of this," she used to say. She was so right.

We had no money for gas, so Jen and I rode bicycles. We headed to the convenience store where everyone hung out in the evening. Edith was the woman behind the counter most nights. Every teenager in town stopped in to say hi, visit, and get advice from Edith. girls stopped in to ask her how to tell their parents that they were knocked up. It was the most common teen dilemma where I grew up. Kids where I grew up were bored. That was the number one cause of teen pregnancy. I still hadn't wanted to discuss my problems with anyone, much less Edith. Edith was like the town crier with gossip. Jen was one of my closest friends, and I hadn't told her.

The grapevine was in full swing when we stopped to visit Edith. She told us the most amazing story. The Argos Killer had escaped from prison and was believed to be in our area. The Argos Killer, as he was known, had killed twelve women. He'd abducted them from various locations in the area late at night. Then he'd taken them to a secluded location to rape and torture them. When he was done, he'd strangled them. The last move in his scheme had been to wrap them in aluminum foil with a bunch of rocks, tie the bundled bodies up with tons of heavy rope, and then dump them into Lake Maxinkuckee. One day someone noticed the sunlight glaring off of something in the lake. They found him, convicted him, and sentenced him to death after a thorough investigation.

That Friday night he escaped. The police were searching a hundred mile radius area from the prison where he was incarcerated in Argos, Indiana. It was nearly harvest time, so there were lots of cornfields to get lost in. Allegedly, he'd jacked a car not far from the prison. the car was found just outside of North Manchester. There was a $5,000 reward for anyone who helped capture him.

A rational person would refuse to take on a guy who'd tortured and killed twelve women, right? I hadn't been rational for a while. I decided to go after the fugitive. What I didn't realize and wouldn't for years was that I was going to completely self-destruct starting that Friday night. That night would start things in motion that I couldn't even imagine.

All I thought of was the $5,000. When Edith told the story, the $5,000 was the only part that had sunk in. "Well Jen, I say we go killer hunting," I said.

Jen furrowed her brow at me. "Are you feeling okay?" she asked. "That's dangerous. Besides, we don't have a car."

At that moment, I saw it drive by. A big four wheel drive Ford F-250 with two guys in it. It even had a good-ole-boy gun rack in the back window, complete with guns.

I smiled at Jen and pointed at the truck. "There goes something better than a car."

"What the hell," Jen grunted. "You're completely insane, but I don't have anything better to do."

By the time I replied, "Let's go," I was already halfway out the door.

And down the rabbit hole I went.

The Destiny Dream
Part XVI

"A l lot of films I've done are essentially about women who are finding their voice, women who don't know themselves well."

-Meg Ryan

The local grocery store plaza was the most popular hangout in my boring town. The surrounding area was extremely rural. My town gave new meaning to the phrase "nothing to do". Dairy Queen was a major restaurant to us. There were no movies or malls. In lieu of entertainment, most of us between the ages of 15 and 21 hung out in the plaza parking lot.

The high schoolers were still at the Friday night football game. When Jen and I arrived on our bicycles, there were only two vehicles parked. One of them was the two tone grey Ford F-250.

The driver was Walter Metzger. I'd seen him around. In truly small towns you saw everybody. In high school he'd hung out with the FFA (Future Farmers of America) guys, even though he was a townie. Recently he'd been dating a girl in his class that I had known but couldn't stand. She was a bitch. I couldn't think of any other way to describe her.

Walter wore bib overalls and a red plaid shirt. He had a baseball cap with the International Harvester logo on it, covering his black hair. He had a long black beard and a bushy black mustache. He was handsome, despite his farmer look, including giant shit kicker cowboy boots. His truck had guns, a gun rack, a CB radio, and a bug deflector on the hood that said 4 X 4 right above the brush guard.

His buddy, Slim, was with him. I'm not sure what Slim's real name was. He was tall and skinny with red hair and freckles. He too dressed in farmer garb, but he was a farmer. I'd known Slim for years. Slim and I spent many nights talking in that parking lot, because we'd had nothing else to do. He was as fiery as his red hair and always full of energy. Slim was always fun to be around, which made it easy to approach the F-250 that night. I rode my bicycle up to the passenger side of the truck where Slim was sitting.

Slim looked down at my bike and grinned. "What the hell is that girl?"

"It's a Harley, can't you tell?" I retorted.

He giggled. "Where's your car?"

"Not running like usual," I moaned.

"I'll take a look at it again," he replied. "It's probably the alternator." He turned to Walter. "Sandy's car kills alternators."

Walter whispered something to Slim. Slim nodded and said, "Yeah." He laughed and turned back to me. "Sandy, this is Walter. Walter – Sandy." He turned back to Walter. "Are you happy now?"

Walter's face turned red. "Hi. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," I replied. I introduced Walter to Jen. She knew Slim from the nights at the parking lot.

"So, biker woman, what are you up to?" Slim asked.

"It's funny you should ask. We need a big bad truck."

"Why?" he cautiously asked.

I smiled at them. "How would you like to go killer hunting?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Slim demanded.

Walter was smiling at me, not saying a word, but I didn't care. I needed to do something crazy to keep me from staying in bed, with the covers over my head 24 hours a day.

"The Argos Killer escaped, and the police think he's around here," I announced.

There was a long pause.

"So?" Slim asked.

"So," I said. "There's a $5,000 reward for him."

Slim and Walter shot each other a look. Slim jumped out of the truck. "Let's put the bikes in the back of my truck and get going. I think we can all fit in this truck."

"Great!" I paused to look at Walter's big truck. "Are you sure this is okay?" I asked him. "This is a pretty truck to take through a cornfield."

Walter smiled again. "It's been through plenty of cornfields."

Slim had loaded our bicycles into the back of his truck and was back. He held the door to Walter's truck open for Jen and me. "let's go. Time is money."

We climbed into the truck. It was cramped with the guys by the doors, and Jen and I in the middle. I sat next to Walter, which I doubted was a coincidence.

Walter started the truck and put it in drive, but the truck didn't move. "Where are we going? There are a lot of cornfields around here."

Blushing wasn't part of my personality, but something about the way Walter looked at me that night made me blush. I immediately sensed that he was attracted to me, but I was in no mood to date anyone ever. It didn't matter what his intentions were. I needed a truck, and he was dumb enough to agree to it.

"He wouldn't come into town if he didn't have to," I said. "They found the car out by the refinery in Laketon, so he's been on foot since then. At least as far as we know."

"He definitely wouldn't go into town," Slim commented.

"Right," I replied.

"Where do you think he went?" Walter asked.

"My guess would be that he's lurking about on one of the farms west of Laketon," I answered.

"That doesn't narrow it down. There are several," Jen said.

I thought for a moment. "It's a football Friday night. You've got the Millers, the Rishes, the Putnams, and the Riders. Let's go to the Rider's barn."

"Why Buck's?" Slim asked.

"Because they're at the football game. They're still have a kid on the high school football team. Therefore, the Riders aren't home. Trust me," I said.

Walter held up his index finger and pointed it at me. "You're good." Then he hit the gas and drove off toward Laketon.

Walter drove like a cop in a high speed chase. I looked to my right and saw Jen's face. I thought she was going to vomit. Guys with big trucks liked to act like tough guys. I was used to them, but Jen hadn't done enough riding with farm boys yet.

It was five miles to the collection of houses and house trailers that was referred to as the "town" of Laketon. It had a gas station, a small diner, an elementary school, a couple of side streets, a soda machine by the side of the road, and on the west side of town there was an oil refinery. West of that were the four farms. The killer was most likely on one of those farms. It was a remote area and the Rider's farm was the most remote of the farms. The other families were home. During harvest season in Indiana, The only thing that got those folks off their property was to watch their sons play high school football or their daughters cheer the team on.

The Rider's farm was vacant that night. The house and the main barn sat together at the end of a quarter mile long driveway. There was no way to sneak up on this place in a 4 X 4 truck. Walter stopped at the side of the road. "You were right," he said. "Nobody's home."

We watched the buildings. I saw something and pointed at the barn, nearly hitting Jen and Slim in the face. "Look there."

There was a point of light coming from the barn. No farmer would go out and leave lights on in the barn. Someone was in that barn.

"So, now what?" Walter stammered.

All of a sudden I just wanted to run away. Some soldier I was going to make. I was scared to death of one guy in a barn. I felt weak and stupid. I wanted to be a hero, but didn't know if I had the guts. Finally, I thought "Fuck it."

I saw the guns on the rack in the window. "Do those work?" I asked Walter.

"What!" Slim snapped. "Have you lost your mind? You could kill someone!"

I ignored Slim. "Well?" I asked Walter.

"Slim's right," Walter replied. "The guns are real. Someone could get hurt."

"Good thing you know how they work, since there mounted in your truck," I commented.

Jen tapped me on the arm. "You can't just go in there and shoot him."

I was annoyed. "Has it ever occurred to you that he might have a gun? He's already on death row. I'm sure killing a few more people won't bother him."

"Where would he get a gun?" Slim asked.

"Mr. Rider hunts everything. He has a huge gun cabinet. If we're going after him, we need to be prepared," I said.

The Destiny Dream
Part XVII

"I'm still me even after all that's happened."

-Victoria Beckham

Walter had a 21 channel CB radio in his truck. I grabbed the microphone and turned to channel 9, the police channel. "Breaker 9. Breaker 9," I called. "Little Hitler, are you on tonight?"

I waited. "Breaker 9. Negative. Little Hitler has a date. Can I help you? This is Sarge," the police chief replied.

"Sarge, it's Munchkin," I replied.

"Hey kiddo! What's up?" he asked.

Walter tugged my arm. "What?" I snapped.

"What if he has a CB too?" Walter asked me.

"Shit," I said. "Sarge, The world is busy tonight. Can I talk to you on Hitler's birthday?"

"Sure thing," Sarge said.

I turned the CB to channel 18. Little Hitler was Josh and June 18th was his birthday. Me and my friends talked on CB's more than we talked on the phone and we had codes for privacy. It wasn't even a minute before the radio started again.

"I'm here," Sarge said. "Are you out there Munchkin?"

"Yeah, Sarge."

"What's up?" Sarge asked.

"I'm out at the Rider's farm with a couple of friends, and we've found the fugitive you're looking for."

"Don't you kid about stuff like that," Sarge warned me. "He's believed to be armed and very dangerous. Don't mess with him, young lady."

"That's why I called you," I groaned. "Come and get him."

"We're on our way," Sarge said. "Don't do anything."

"Okay," I replied.

"I mean it," he warned. "For once in your life, listen to me."

"Which cop was that?" Walter asked.

"Captain Russell," I replied.

"The chief of police knows your CB handle?" Walter asked. "You're a very interesting girl."

"You have no idea," I replied.

I watched the barn. An old Packard Sedan pulled out of the barn and drove toward us.

"Oh shit," Slim said.

"Now what?" Jen asked.

The car was barely moving because of the holes in the driveway, but it was approaching.

"If you have cartridges, get them out." Everyone looked at me. "We don't have a choice. We have to do something."

Slim opened the glove box and pulled out two boxes of shells with steel shot and a couple of deer slugs. We loaded the shotguns.

We slumped down out of sight as the car approached. I handed Slim a gun and kept one for myself.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Slim asked me.

"Shut up," I said.

Walter watched me load the shotgun. "Yep. You're a real interesting girl."

"I'm nothing but trouble," I said.

The Packard reached the end of the drive, and the driver shot at our windshield, shattering it. We all ducked as we were showered with glass.

Walter brushed the glass out of his hair. "Jesus!" He looked at me. "I guess you are trouble."

The Packard came to a stop in the drive and fired at us again. Next, it started to pull out onto the road. I propped the shotgun up on the dash, aimed and fired.

There was a crack followed by a ping and a huge bang as the bullet hit the back tire on the passenger side and it blew out. The Packard tipped and fell over into the cornfield.

Walter, still watching the car, said to me, "You're definitely not like most girls."

The Packard did one complete roll, wobbled back and forth a few times, and settled back on its wheels. Everything was quiet. I had no idea what to do next.

"Now what?" Walter asked.

I reached up and grabbed the CB mike, pulling it down onto the floor with me. "Sarge, are you still there?"

"Yeah Munchkin," Sarge replied.

"We kind of have a situation," I said.

"What did you do?" he asked.

"Well, he tried to get away. Where are you?"

Then I saw the flashing lights behind me. There were five police cars. The three from our town and two county sheriffs. They all stopped where we were. They blocked the road. The lights were flashing, and cops ran in every direction. Captain Russell came straight to me.

"Good God!" Captain Russell exclaimed. "Are you kids all right?"

"The guy stopped in the drive and shot out the windshield of my truck," Walter said. "Sandy shot the tire out. He rolled over, and there it is."

Sarge looked at me shaking his head. "Thank God you're all right."

"Hey Sarge!" one of the bullet proof vested policemen called. "You gotta see this! The guy's out cold!"

"Is he hurt?" Sarge asked.

"He'll probably have a hell of a headache when he wakes up," the cop said.

"Does he have a gun?" Captain Russell asked.

"He's got a whole car full of guns. Shoot, by the looks of it, I'd say he's got Carl Rider's whole collection in here," the cop said.

The police pulled the Argos Killer out of the Packard and put handcuffs and shackles on him. When the guy woke up, he was a prisoner again. He was really pissed when he found out it was a bunch of teenagers who had recaptured him. He was almost as surprised as we were.

We collected our reward, which wasn't as much as the rumor mill had led us to believe. We had enough to fix Walter's windshield and Carl's Packard. We all went out for a pizza with the rest. Buck Rider said he was going to take the Packard to school with him, so he could tell everyone about what on in his dad's prized car.

The Captain lectured me for what seemed like forever that night, and Josh lectured me some more the next day. We all got to be heroes in the local news. That was cool. The press coverage went on for several days. Then it was time for me to go to Indianapolis and join the Army.

The Destiny Dream
Part XVIII

"Showing up is not all of life - but it counts for a lot."

-Hillary Clinton

I left on a Greyhound Bus to Indianapolis. The military conducted all physicals for Indiana recruits there. That bus took five hours for a drive that would have taken less than two hours in a car. The bus was smelly, slow, and annoying. It was the first and last time I ever traveled on Greyhound.

My parents accepted the idea of my joining the Army. My friends weren't surprised. Everyone knew that I wanted to get the hell out of Indiana. Anyone who knew me knew that I had way more on my agenda for life than to get knocked up and marry some farmer. I knew that I wanted different things than most of my friends. I wanted to be where there were trees, hills, and waterfalls. I wanted to be somewhere that didn't smell of cow manure and composting carcasses being made into fertilizer. I told myself that wanting a better view wasn't too much to ask.

My grandma was appalled. She told me that my dream was a sign, and that I was ignoring it. She said that my head was so hard that apparently it would take a house falling on me to get through.

"Fate is fate," Grandma said. "There's nothing you can do about it. What's supposed to happen will happen. A destiny dream is a sign. You can't ignore it forever."

I sat on that bus with Grandma's words echoing in my head. Eventually, I became so mentally exhausted that I put my head back and fell asleep. As I slept, there it was again—the dream. I was in a car that time. I couldn't tell much about the car, but it had black sun visors, and the driver's side visor had a guardian angel pin stuck in the middle of it. To date, that was the strangest thing that had been my dream, except for the song that I'd never heard anywhere else.

When I woke, there was an extremely dark black woman with a scarf on her head sitting next to me. She looked like she'd just crawled out of bed and was looking at me.

"Hi," I said, startled.

"Hallo," she replied. "You musta been dreamin'. You got dat look. My name's Bibi." She put out her hand.

I shook it. "I'm Sandy."

"Where you headin' to?" Bibi asked.

"Indy," I replied. "Army physical."

"You runnin' from dat dream?" Bibi asked.

"What?" I asked.

"You mumble," she said. "It sound like a destiny dream."

I stared at her. "That's um...what I've been told, but how..."

"Wait 'til you old like me," she replied. "You be surprised what you know den."

"What makes you think I'm running from a dream?" I asked.

Bibi smiled at me. "I never heard a girl's destiny bein' to join de Army."

"I'm not running from some pre-determined life. I don't believe in that stuff. I want to make a future for myself. I'm in charge," I insisted.

"I hates to sound critical dear, but you want to get to your future, you oughta follow de signs in your dream," Bibi said. "Dose kinds of dreams dey very rare. It a gift. Don't ignore it."

"That's what my grandma says."

"Wise wooman," she replied.

I sat back and quit talking. The bus stopped again five minutes later, and Bibi left. Where she'd come from I had no idea, but she'd left a guardian angel pin on the seat. I put it on my jacket. It had to be a coincidence. It was the pin I'd seen in my dream.

Once we finally reached the Armed Forces Medical Center, the tense feeling I'd had all day disappeared. The physical was impersonal and done in groups. They tested my eyes, my ears, my reflexes, and my patience. I had to stick my arm through a round hole in a moveable wall to have blood drawn by an unknown vampire on the other side. I passed with flying colors.

The last stop was the facility's auditorium to sign my papers and get sworn in. I was going to see the world and work on airplanes. Maybe I would become an engineer and design an airplane someday. Dream or no dream, this was going to be a great life. Destiny held no interest for me.

I started down the hall to the auditorium. We only passed three of the many doors along the way before I was stopped.

"Are you recruit #7912?" a lieutenant asked. I could tell he was a lieutenant by the bars on his shoulders.

The envelope that I'd been told to keep with me all day read #7912. "Yes, sir."

"I'm Lieutenant Lansing," he said. "Come with me."

I followed him to a conference room. Three more officers awaited us. They all looked very serious, but then again, I guessed that the Armed Forces had no sense of humor.

Lieutenant Lansing directed me to a seat at the head of an enormous oval conference table. Lieutenant Lansing sat down with the others around the table.

"This is Sergeant Cox, Captain Crowley, and Lieutenant Simon," Lieutenant Lansing said. "We want to chat with you before we continue your processing."

"Yes, sir," I stammered. I wondered what I could have done to deserve this nerve racking experience. They hadn't stopped anyone else in my group.

"Don't be nervous," Captain Crowley said. "We have some questions about your background check. It's standard follow up."

"I don't understand," I said.

"The Armed Forces does a background check on every recruit," Sergeant Cox replied. "It's a matter of national security."

"Of course," I answered. "What did you find about me?"

Lieutenant Simon responded while looking at my file which he held in his hands. "Let's begin with your test scores."

"I thought they were good," I said defensively. "Sergeant Anderson said they were good."

"They were some of the best we've ever seen," Lieutenant Simon answered. "You want to work on airplanes. You could do so much more."

Suddenly, I felt the same that I had when I was 16, sitting in my guidance counselor's office in high school. He tried to nag me into going to college to become a mathematician or a physicist. He wouldn't listen to what I wanted. I heard that same tone in Lieutenant Simon's voice.

"I want to work on planes or even cars," I insisted.

"We'll come back to that," Captain Crowley said.

"Yes sir," I replied.

Captain Crowley looked at his copy of my file. "You're listed as bilingual. It doesn't say what language."

"German, sir," I replied.

"Outstanding," Captain Crowley answered. "You didn't study it in school?"

"No, sir," I replied. "I grew up in a neighborhood where German was commonly spoken."

Captain Crowley made a note and moved on. "There was an irregularity in your security clearance level that I didn't quite understand."

I wrinkled my brow at him. "I didn't know I had a security clearance level."

The four of them exchanged glances. Sergeant Cox spoke up. "You mean, you had no idea at all?"

"No, sir," I replied.

"How could she have no idea?" Sergeant Cox asked the others. They all shrugged.

"May I speak frankly?" I asked.

"Yes," Captain Crowley replied.

"Why would I have a security clearance? Is it a big deal for a civilian?" I asked.

"It is unusual, but it's also a higher security clearance than mine," Captain Crowley stated. "And I'm an intelligence officer."

"How high is that?" I asked.

"Better than top secret," Captain Crowley replied.

The Destiny Dream
Part XIX

"If something doesn't sit right with you, you got to say no."

-Christina Applegate

Then it hit me. Martin Island. "I think I might know why, but I don't think I'm supposed to say, sir," I responded.

"Clear the room," Captain Crowley ordered.

The other three officers left. "If you intend to become a U.S. soldier, you have to answer the question ma'am," Captain Crowley said.

"I think it's because I have a friend in witness protection."

"You're a very interesting girl," Captain Crowley said. "My report cites a CIA connection."

"Who, Stella?" I guessed.

"I don't know who Stella is, or who you know in the witness protection program. The file I have says that you've been acquainted with a CIA special operative for most of your life."

"Does it give a name?" I was totally amazed at the situation.

"No," he said flatly. "It only refers to him as he. That's all I know. You were supposed to tell me the rest."

"I'm sorry, sir. I don't know what that's about," I said. "If I know another CIA agent, I don't know about it."

"This agent was the person who had you cleared for top secret. I don't know the name of the operative or the reason."

I was acquainted with a spy my whole life? I'd lived in the middle of nowhere my whole life. I knew plenty of people. The only CIA agent I was aware of was Stella. Who did I know that was a spy?

Captain Crowley called the others back into the room. "Next question," Captain Crowley said, once everyone was seated. "It says here that you and a group chased down an escaped murderer?"

"Yes," I replied.

"I saw you on the news and read about you in the papers," he said. "Why did you do that?"

"I'm not sure," I replied.

"What do you mean, you're not sure?" Sergeant Cox asked.

"It was a lot of things," I said.

"Like what?" Lieutenant Lansing asked.

"The money, fear, anger, the need for a little justice in the world, and the fact that I was pretty sure where to find him." I paused and sighed. "I just felt like I had to do it."

The four officers didn't so much as utter a single word for a while, and then they all turned the pages of their copies of my file.

Captain Crowley finally spoke. "Who taught you to shoot?"

"My grandma."

My grandma hated guns. She used to say, "It would be wonderful to have a society without guns. I would love to get rid of all of you grandpa's guns. Damn criminals. If it weren't for them, I wouldn't have to have a gun."

"Okay," Captain Cox replied. "How do you feel about learning to speak some more foreign languages?"

"I like languages," I answered. "How many?

"Twelve," Sergeant Cox said.

"How long would that take?" I asked. "I'm only signing up for two years, so I can go to college and become an English Teacher."

"What if we could make you an even better offer?" Lieutenant Simon asked.

"Like what?"

"What if you take a six year tour, and we'll teach you twelve languages, give you an exciting job, make you a sergeant, and give you a chance to see the world? When you're done, you'll be able to walk right into the United Nations and name your own salary as a translator," Lieutenant Simon said.

"You'll have a life most people only dream of," Sergeant Cox added.

"What would I have to do?" I asked. I smelled bullshit.

"You'd go to Texas right after boot camp and go to a special total immersion language program for 26 weeks," Sergeant Cox said. "There you would learn a dozen languages quickly."

"And then?" I demanded.

"You'd spend most of the rest of your time living in beautiful Germany," Lieutenant Lansing said.

"What's the job?" I snapped. "You must have a job in mind, or you wouldn't be trying to sell me this package of bullshit as a European vacation."

"We need a decoding expert to work in Berlin," Captain Crowley stated.

"Berlin? You mean where the Berlin Wall is?" I exclaimed.

"Yes," Captain Crowley replied flatly. "We try to keep a small staff in Berlin to let us know what the East Germans are up to. Berlin is the best place for that."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't West Berlin sitting in the middle of East Germany? I asked.

"Yes," Sergeant Cox said. "It's a prime location for our operation."

"No thanks," I said. "I want to fix airplanes, or trucks, or something."

"That isn't an option for you," Captain Crowley announced.

"You mean, if I join the Army, this is what I have to do?" I asked.

"Yes," Lieutenant Lansing said.

"Is that my first order?"

"Yes."

"Well, it's also my last. It's a damn good thing I didn't place my hand on a Bible yet," I said. It was over for me. I hated being pushed around. "It was nice meeting all of you. Good luck with the decoding thing."

"Are you backing out on us?" Captain Crowley asked.

"Nope, I'm walking away," I answered. Then I walked out of the room, out of the building, and away from the Armed Forces.

My return ticket for the bus was voided, because I hadn't joined the Army. Consequently, that left me with no ride home. I didn't know what to do, so I called Walter. We'd hung out together every day since we'd become heroes. The minute I told him what had happened, he asked me for directions and came to get me. Walter was a nice guy.

On the way home, I told Walter what happened. He'd known about my plans to join the Army. He'd said a dozen times that I had to do what was best for me. I had no clue what to do next. When I got home, I broke down and cried. I waited until I was alone. I wouldn't cry in front of Walter.

The Destiny Dream
Part XX

"We're all idiots when we're young. We don't think we are, but we are. So we should be."

-Helen Mirren

A couple of weeks later, Walter finally asked me out on a date. Walter had seemed like he was hung up on his ex girlfriend when I'd first met him, but once we started dating that went away. From that point on, he was focused on me. It made me feel like a princess, and I hadn't felt like that in a very long time.

Karen, Walter's ex, went through men like water. She not only dumped him for his friend Dwayne, but then dumped Dwayne for the youngest Miller boy, Scott. The kicker was when Karen got pregnant, Scott dumped her. Karma is a bitch.

Christmas came. Walter and I spent the holidays as a couple. I'd met his parents by that time, and he'd met my parents. For Christmas he took me to his family Christmas dinner, and I met the rest of his family. Walter's grandparents were the richest couple in town.

At Christmas I met Miriam, Walter's grandmother. She ruled the whole clan, and no one told her what to do or ever told her no. She immediately made me feel like part of the family. She was eccentric, deliriously wealthy, and very kind to me. It was a good thing that she welcomed me that night. My Christmas present from Walter was an engagement ring.

My parents were happy to get me off their hands, and I was happy to oblige. However, when my grandma met Walter, all she did was turn to me and say, "You have to do everything the hard way." After that she accepted it as much as she could.

My friends were nearly as shocked as Walter's friends, but we were all young and dumb and saw the whirlwind romance as a Harlequin Romance come to life.

I don't know when exactly it happened, but I lost myself. I'd dreamed of traveling all over the world, like the college professors I'd met at the local college, but somewhere along the way, I forgot about that. I wasn't myself at that point in time, which caused me to hyper focus on planning my wedding, instead of realizing that I was marrying a man that I barely knew.

All of my dreams of traveling the world were gone. I was settling down in a small Midwestern town with a guy who didn't want to go anywhere. I was going to be married before I did anything and before I could legally drink alcohol. I didn't believe I could take care of myself, and I'd found someone to take care of me and get me out of my parents' house. That was my dream at the time.

Two months before the wedding, I realized what it meant to live in Walter's world when his grandmother, Miriam, bought us a house as a wedding present.

I stood in the road and stared at the house. "She just bought it? Just like that?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Do you like it?"

"Sure," I stammered. "It's great."

"When can you move in?" he asked.

"Can I see inside first?" I asked. It was overwhelming.

Walter pulled the keys out of his pocket. "Sure. Let's go."

I'll never forget that house. It was pink, dated somewhere in the depression era, abysmally decorated sometime in the 1960's, with lolly columns attempting to hold up the sagging roof. The windows and siding were original, and I could feel the wind blowing in around the windows and doors.

"Wow," I said. "What made Miriam pick this house?"

Walter told me that Miriam had chosen it, because his parents lived right up the street. My in-laws would be living virtually within earshot of our house. Wow.

"Hi!" Walter's mom said, as she walked in without knocking. "What do you think?"

I forced a smile. "It's great," I said. "And so generous of Miriam."

"I was so happy," Walter's mom said. "We can have barbecues, and I'll be able to drop in any time."

"Great," I replied, feeling trapped.

My soon-to-be husband's grandmother had bought us a house that needed a ton of work, because it was right up the street from his parents. What was I doing? Walter thought it was great. I couldn't tell him how I felt. It would hurt him.

That was the last time I even remotely considered speaking my mind for years. That was the beginning of years of doing what people expected of me and nothing else. I had officially lost my mind and all of my dreams went with it.

The house was just the beginning. Walter had become my dream man, because he'd helped me get away from my parents. We moved into the house on a Saturday. We had one chair, a really beat up sofa, and a furnished bedroom. I had to go out and buy everything else. I was out on my own with my soon-to-be husband, in my very own house. Life was looking good to me through my rose colored glasses, but the house was actually pink.

My dream had gone away. My mind was calm, and I slept through the night. I had beat destiny. My life was great. I'd found my prince charming, just like Cinderella. He was a farmer-looking, bearded, auto mechanic, but he was honest and stable, and he would take care of me. No one had ever done that before. Dreams were for losers. I had a reliable man.

I was in the thralls of planning the ultimate 80's wedding with hoop skirts and pastel rainbows when everything suddenly exploded. The families both insisted that we get married in one of the family churches. One was Baptist and the other was Lutheran, and that would never sort itself out. Walter and I personally weren't religious. After a lot of discussion and irrational family arguing, we moved the whole event to our brand new back yard. Neither side got what they wanted. I asked my friend, Reverend Ashton, to perform the ceremony. He was not from either church. I felt better having a friend perform my ceremony anyway.

We forged ahead, regardless of all the red flags, like strategically placed houses and differing religions. Through stag parties and bridal showers, my mom never said any motherly things to me at all. No advice, no suggestions, no warnings, and no congratulations. It seemed as if she had no feelings on the topic at all. My dad did make nice with Walter's grandfather for my sake. They had a difficult past of their own. I knew it was hard for him, but it meant a lot to me.

It had been less than a year since the miscarriage, and it was the day before my wedding. I had the girls of the wedding party over for a slumber party. We were going to eat our weight in chocolate and do our nails. We stayed up late, because I was too nervous to sleep. Finally, after ignoring every feeling that I had that was telling me it was all wrong, I passed out from exhaustion.

That night the dream was back. It had been gone for months, but the night before my wedding it struck. All the same as usual, but now the guardian angel pin. The man was more defined than he had been previously. I still couldn't see his face clearly, but he was tall. I saw a wedding ring on my finger, as we danced to that haunting song. I woke in a cold sweat again. My hands were shaking, and my heart was racing. Walter wasn't tall...at all.

I had a nagging feeling in my gut that something wasn't right. All day I readied myself and my bridesmaids for the big event. We primped, polished, and spent hours on our hair. I couldn't breathe. Everyone told me that I was just nervous, but I felt like something was wrong. I felt that I was marrying the wrong man. I shook it off, because the idea was ridiculous. Walter was a wonderful man.

Right before the ceremony, my grandma came and sat with me on my bed, looked me straight in the eye, and said, "Why are you doing this? It's wrong. You have to know that."

"I don't know any such thing," I said. "Walter is a wonderful man."

"I'm sure he is, dear," she replied. "He's just not the man for you. Most of us stumble through life. You have clues and hints to guide you. It's a gift."

I didn't know what to say. Grandma was right about me and Walter, but I didn't want to think about it, because it was my wedding day, and it was way too late to call it off.

"Grandma, it's a dream. It could mean anything," I said. "Who knows what a dream like this really means?"

She rose and walked to the door. She opened it and looked back at me. "You're beautiful sweetheart. You could have any man you want," she said. "The day will come when you will want to undo all of this. Make sure you can."

"Are we done?" I asked.

"Almost," she answered. "One more thing. I don't like your mom, but did you have to invite Cassie?"

"How the hell do you know her name?" I asked.

"Don't ever question me, child," Grandma said and walked out the door.

Mom didn't die of a heart attack, but she did nearly faint when she saw Cassie. Cassie and I both felt a little better about the lies after that. My dad was too drunk to notice from the flask of booze he'd hidden in his tuxedo. That didn't surprise me one little bit. Other than the people involved, no one realized that my ex boyfriend, Zach had brought my identical twin to my wedding. If only we had been old enough to drink. It would have made a tedious wedding so much easier to live through had we had an open bar.

What makes kids get married? I've thought about this for 30 years now. I still don't know. I used to think it was because someone was pregnant. I had to retire that concept, because, for whatever reason, I did it too. Walter was never a bad husband or a bad person. We simply had nothing in common. We had different likes and dislikes, different goals, different dreams, and different outlooks on life. I loved him very much, and I'm grateful to him for helping me heal from some of the trauma of my family's lies. He was always supportive no matter how crazy he thought I was. He was one of the few people in my life who didn't judge me. He was one of the best friends I ever had. We just couldn't possibly spend the rest of our lives as husband and wife. We were too different, and that's what made the next five years so hard.

The Destiny Dream
Part XXI

"It's a helluva start, being able to recognize what makes you happy."

-Lucille Ball

After the wedding, I did nothing. Walter preferred I not work, and he didn't want to have children, so I watched TV. Most of our friends paired off, hitched up, settled down, and had families. Most of my friends simply did what their parents had done when they were young and dumb. I waited for my life to begin. I had no idea what to do with myself.

Walter finished trade school and went to work repairing cars at a local Ford dealership. He worked long hours and was away a lot. He became a volunteer fireman and spent a lot of time hanging out at the fire station after work. He spent his weekends helping his buddy Dwayne on the farm.

What about me? I had a life of leisure. We sold my car, because I didn't have any use for it, according to my in laws. Miriam sent over all the modern conveniences a girl could want. She got us the top cable package available, so I could watch anything I wanted to on TV at any time. Miriam had the house redecorated. She even bought us a brand new waterbed. I had everything I could have ever asked for. The house was beautiful inside. I had top of the line appliances, a TV for every room, and anything else I wanted.

I had it all. I had married into a very comfortable life. I would never wont for anything. The only thing that I was missing was a life. My husband was never home, and I had no vehicle to drive most of the time. I had so many devices that I really didn't have to do anything. I didn't have to get up in the morning. Many times I actually lost track of what day of the week it was. My friends gave up trying to talk to me, because I didn't want to do anything. Socially, I fell off the face of the Earth. I watched MTV, read books about Russian History, and ate pudding. That was how I gained 50 pounds in less than a year.

My mother insisted that I see a psychiatrist. She picked me up and took me to the appointments three times a week for six months. I knew I was depressed. I didn't have to pay anyone to tell me that. I knew I was miserable and needed a life, but I hadn't figured out what to do about it. I couldn't leave Walter, he was my husband. I'd married for better or for worse, maybe to clean the house, but I figured that was part of the bargain. I could never make it without him. He and his family took care of me. It was so easy. Anything I wanted—all I had to do was mention it. I didn't even have to ask. Where else would I get a deal like that?

I turned 21 and then 22. I got rid of the shrink and got a puppy. He looked a little like Benji, and I named him Bop. He was a total mutt, but he was smart. He gave me something I really needed. Bop gave me a reason to live again. I started to breathe again and feel again. Feisty Sandy was coming back.

I was 22 when I saw Josh for the first time since my wedding day in the parking lot of the local drugstore.

I stepped out of the truck and Josh stared at me. "Hi," I said, feeling self conscious.

"Hi," Josh replied.

"What?" I asked.

"What happened to you?" Josh asked.

I noticed him staring again. "What?"

"Okay. Don't take this the wrong way," he said. "But, you got fat."

I made an appointment to see my husband after that. We had to talk. I'd made some decisions.

"Okay, I'm here. What do we need to talk about?" Walter asked.

"I need to make some changes," I said.

"Change anything you want to," he replied. "You know that whatever you do to the house is fine with me."

"I don't mean the house," I said.

"What then?" he asked. "Clothes, hair? I'll call Miriam and she'll take you shopping. Whatever you want is fine."

"I need to do something with my life. I can't sit around here staring at the walls anymore," I said.

"I don't get it," he said.

"I've done nothing for years," I explained. "I need something in my life. I'm bored, I'm depressed, and I'm fat. I know you don't want to hear that your wife wants to work, but I need to do something productive."

"I want you to be happy," he said. "Whatever you need, it's yours."

"I applied to become a state trooper," I announced. "I have four months to lose 50 pounds to qualify for the academy, so I'm going to need money to go to a gym and aerobics classes. Stuff like that. I need a bike, workout clothes, and some really good running shoes."

"Wow," he said.

I sat across from him on the brand new overstuffed sofa that Miriam had sent over the week before and waited. He was in shock. He hated change. He didn't seem to realize that he was late for his fire training session.

"Don't be angry with me," I said.

He came and sat down next to me. "I'm not mad," he said. He took my hand, looked at me, and smiled. "I haven't seen this side of you in a long time."

"I'm confused," I said. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"It's a good thing," he replied, smiling. "I loved the girl I married. I love you, but, I miss the old you."

"I have changed a lot," I said. "I want to be the old me too."

"I never knew what to do. When your grandma died, your really went off the deep end. I just waited," he explained. "You've really barely talked to me since."

He was right. Ever since my grandma died the day after Thanksgiving, I'd been a mess.

My grandma's death devastated me. I lived in a mental fog for months, and to this day, I hate Thanksgiving. She meant more to me than anything. I'd had the so called destiny dream, so many times since grandma died, that I didn't think about it much anymore. It was a routine part of my life. Except for that song. That song was going to kill me.

"Well, I'm back," I announced. "Can you stand having a cop for a wife?"

"Why not?" he said. "You already know how to shoot." He smiled at me. "Will it make you happy?"

"Yes."

"I'll break it to the family," he said. "I'll let Miriam know she needs to get you whatever you need to make it happen."

"I have a crazy idea," I said. "We have money. Why don't we pay for this?"

"Why?" he asked.

"Because you work all the time, and you make a good living," I answered. "When Miriam buys all that expensive stuff, it makes what you earn seem insignificant. We don't need her money. I want to be independent, don't you?"

"I've never been independent," he replied. "I'll give it a try. Okay?"

"Thank you!" I exclaimed. I gave him a big hug, and for the first time in months, Walter spent the whole evening and night with me.

The Destiny Dream
Part XXII

"There are very few things that surprise me."

-Judi Dench

For the next four months I was busy. I jogged in the morning with my dog, Bop. I went to the local swimming pool and gym, where I swam two miles followed by lifting weights and biking. I transformed my house, and even painted the whole outside of the house grey and black. Miriam didn't like that I did what I wanted, but I was back to being my stubborn self. I went to aerobics, water aerobics, self defense, lifeguard training, and EMT (emergency medical technician) classes. Everything I did was to help me get stronger, thinner, and prepare me for being a cop. I was taking my life back.

Walter was surprisingly supportive. He stood up to his mother and Miriam for me. He made time to take me out to dinner once a week. He used his connections with local services to help me get official certificates before I had to report for testing to become a state trooper. During that time Walter was the best he'd ever been to me. In that four month period, I became certified as an EMT, a lifeguard, and instructor trainer to teach lifeguards, an aerobics instructor, and a self defense teacher. I also lost 55 pounds. By the time I had to go for my physical to get into the police academy, I was in fabulous shape. My husband was proud of me, and I was beaming. Now, all I had to do was impress the state police.

I went to Indianapolis for a physical and testing for admission to the Indiana State Police Academy. I had to go for three days, so I got a hotel for four nights to be well rested. Walter gave me the truck and borrowed one of Miriam's Cadillacs to drive while I was away.

I tried to sleep at the hotel the night before the tests began, but was too nervous. Every time I did doze off, I had the dream. The images that haunted me, and that song. I hated that song. I still had no idea what it was.

The next morning, I signed in and waited forever for my first of several interviews. Finally, I was called into a room with four policemen looking at me. I sat down in the only empty chair. It reminded me of the interview I'd had with the four Armed Forces officers just before I'd walked out on the Army.

"You've lost a lot of weight since you applied," the cop to my far right observed.

"Yes, sir," I answered. "55 pounds."

"Very impressive," he commented. "You've also completed several public service courses."

"Yes, sir," I said.

"I see here that you speak German," the officer to my left said.

"Yes," I replied.

"We have the results of the FBI background check. What do you think it says?" a third officer asked.

"I don't know," I replied. "Married, 22 years old, born and raised in Indiana, graduated high school, and whatever else."

"You nearly enlisted in the Army," the fourth cop said. "Why did you change your mind?"

"We disagreed on what I should train for, sir," I answered.

The first officer spoke again. "Why didn't you tell us about your relationship with the CIA operative?"

"The Army mentioned that too. I'm not aware of any CIA operatives in my life. Is this a problem?" I asked.

"No," the officer on the far left answered. "That has nothing to do with why we can't accept you into the academy. I'm very sorry, but you've been turned down."

"Why?" I exclaimed.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I hate to have to say this, because I know how unfair it is, but we have quotas."

"You're joking," I snapped. "I thought quotas were to help women get into programs like this."

"We're only allowed to accept a certain number of women for each session, and we're officially at our limit," he replied. "I'm very sorry. I do think you would make an excellent police officer. I hope you apply again next time."

When I returned to my hotel room, the first thing I did was cry. What a waste. I'd spent four months doing everything I could to become a cop. I made it less than ten minutes into the program. They should have called and told me not to bother. Quotas.

After my lengthy cry, I picked up the phone to call Walter and tell him that I would be home the following day. I was interrupted by a knock at the door. I slammed down the receiver, walked to the door, and jerked it open. "What!"

The man at my door was one of the professors that I'd grown up listening to, when I'd been hanging out with his daughters. The man at my door was that charismatic, salt and pepper haired, beer bellied man who we called Dr. Max. Dr. Maximillian Garrity.

"Sorry to disturb you," he said.

"Dr. Max? What are you doing here?" I asked. "How did you even know I was here?"

"It's complicated," he replied. "Can we talk?"

"Sure," I said. I had no idea what to think. "Please, sit down."

"I'll explain more later," he said. "For now, I'll just cut to the chase. I need a favor."

"Okay." I said, confused.

"Do you still speak fluent German?" he asked.

"No," I said. "I traded up to Japanese. Of course I still speak German. What's going on?"

"I'm sorry. That was a stupid question. I know you've had a bad day too. I'm really sorry," he replied. "I need a translator desperately."

"Can't you just use one of your students?" I snapped. "They do teach German at Manchester College, right?"

"It's not that easy," he said. "I need you. I trust you."

"How did you know where to find me?" I demanded.

"I talked to Walter and then went to the testing facility," he replied.

"And they just told you where I was?" I asked. "No questions asked?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Why would they do that?" I asked.

"Because I have this." Dr. Max handed me an ID card.

I stared at the card. It had a seal stamped in it. "Central Intelligence Agency."

"It's you?" I stammered.

"Yes. I'm sorry," he apologized. "I don't advertise."

"All those trips to the Soviet Union. I should have known," I said.

Dr. Max stood up and started toward the door. "We can discuss the details on the way. I'm in a hurry."

"Where are we going?" I demanded.

He stopped. "I have a meeting. I need a translator, because mine is no longer available. Any translator I use has to have a top secret or better clearance, and also needs to be able to disappear for roughly 48 hours. I had you cleared and put on my backup list years ago, and you're not due home for a couple of days, right?"

The Destiny Dream
Part XXIII

"Every stumble is not a fall, and every fall does not mean failure."

-Oprah Winfrey

"Did the cops really have quotas, or did you get me dismissed?" I asked.

"You can apply next year, if you still want to, I swear," he responded. "I'll get you into the police academy myself; if that's what you want."

"Whatever," I snapped. "So, you're the one who gave me that top secret clearance people keep asking me about."

"I knew you would make a great translator, and you have no criminal record."

"This is the first time that you've talked to me about this," I snapped. "I've looked stupid more than once over this."

"I have to be prepared at all times," he explained. "I don't have time to waste when I have a meeting. Like now, can we go?"

"Do you know everything about my life?" I asked.

"I know about Alex Martin, if that's what you mean," he snapped. "I have worked with Stella."

"Enough said," I groaned. "What do I have to do?"

"Come to a meeting with me and translate. That's all," he said.

I stood and walked to the door. I noticed he wasn't moving. "What?"

"You should get your things," he said. "The meeting isn't nearby."

My head was throbbing. I grabbed my packed suitcases. "So, where am I going?"

He opened the door for me and took one of the bags. "West Berlin."

"Germany?" I asked.

"Yes," he answered.

"I don't have a passport," I told him.

He reached into his pocket again and pulled out a small blue book. "You do now."

I should have just joined the Army.

Dr. Max had a taxi waiting. The driver loaded my bags and took us to the airport. It was a quick but quiet ride on the cross town expressway to the airport. Dr. Max directed the driver to a hangar instead of a terminal. A private plane was waiting for us. We unloaded the bags and went inside an enormous hangar. There was a Lear jet inside.

"Hey, I know that jet!" I exclaimed.

"I thought you might," Dr. Max said.

"Leon," I gasped.

Leon walked out from behind the rear of the plane toward us. "Hi!"

I glared at Dr. Max. "He's a spook?"

"I am not a spook," Leon replied. "I'm just the pilot. I'm just a tool, like you." He gestured toward Dr. Max. "He's the spook."

"Enough. Let's go," Dr. Max demanded. "We have to be in West Berlin in less than 12 hours. And, I'm not a spook."

"Fine." I threw my luggage at Leon. "Here tool." I climbed up the fold down stairs into Leon's plane.

Of all the people to be stuck with. Leon was one of my ex-boyfriend Stewart's best buddies. Stewart had moved away by that point, and that had finally given me the space I needed to begin some real healing. Leon was a nice guy, but he made me think of Stewart. That was the last thing I ever wanted to do. I hated Leon, because he reminded me of Stewart. I couldn't even look at his dark brown hair, dark tan skin, and broad shoulders, because he reminded me of the jerk who knocked me up.

We took off quickly and headed east. I didn't talk to Dr. Max or Leon. I was overwhelmed, and that made me volatile. Dr. Max knew me well enough to understand that I needed time.

I sat silently for the entire flight to Washington D.C. where we stopped at Dulles Airport to fuel up and do a quick systems check on the jet before we headed overseas. I stared out the window. I watched as we left the U.S. and headed over the Atlantic Ocean. It was a far cry from where I'd started my day.

I rubbed my temples. "What is all of this about?"

"How much do you know about the current Soviet condition?" Dr. Max asked.

"I don't know," I said. "I know Gorbachev seems to want to change things."

"That's right!" Dr. Max exclaimed. "Very good! The Soviets want to transition into a more democratic society. We're trying to help them. I'm meeting with a liaison in Berlin to discuss some options for the future of East Germany and the Soviet Block."

"I thought that's what ambassadors were for," I said.

"We do a lot of negotiating," he commented. "The ambassadors get the credit."

"That's stupid," I barked.

"Maybe, but ambassadors are like spokesmen. I'm just one of the writers. Do you understand at least a little?" Dr. Max asked.

"I get it," I said. "It's just stupid."

"The intelligence business isn't all covert operations and shootouts," Dr. Max explained. "I negotiate. Everyone I deal with knows I'm an agent. No Shootouts. This is not the movies."

"Why all the secrecy?" I asked.

"Negotiating significant change for a superpower tends to piss off some dangerous people. The less attention we draw, the better," he explained.

"So, what part of West Berlin are we going to?" I asked.

"The East Part," he mumbled.

"Behind the wall?" I asked.

"Yes," Dr. Max replied.

"Figures."

My mind was exhausted. I fell asleep, and there it was again. The dream that never let up. The reservoirs, the colored leaves, the angel pin, the guy, the occasion, the dance, the ring, and of course that relentless song.

Apparently, one way or another, I was going to end up behind the Iron Curtain. Maybe this was the destiny that my grandma had insisted I couldn't avoid. I knew it was crazy, but I looked around me. Everything was a bit crazy at that moment.

"Did you have a good nap?" Dr. Max asked as he arrived from the cockpit.

"Yeah," I answered.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes," I groaned. "It's a lot to take in. I have to know. Why you?" Leon entered the compartment. "And why him?"

"I'm just a hired hand," Leon snapped back. "Sorry princess, if my presence has upset you. I have to take a leak." He stormed through to the restroom in the back.

"Will you listen to me, please?" Dr. Max snapped.

"Like I have a choice," I grumbled.

"Right or wrong, U.S. citizens do not know about every little thing that goes on around the globe," Dr. Max said. "There's too much to tell it all. We do a lot of negotiating all around the world. I spend a lot of time in, and on the phone with, Eastern Europe. I've successfully kept communications open. The Soviets can't make the changes by themselves, because they've been Soviets for generations. They need advice."

"Why you?" I asked. "Heads of state are supposed to sort this stuff out."

"And they will," he continued. "Based on our advice. We report to the heads of state, and they decide on the policy changes."

"Why spies?" I asked.

"We know a lot about the world," he replied. "The leaders want to maintain the myth that they know everything, but they live and work in a bubble. Us spies, as you call us, provide valuable information that helps them make sound decisions on new foreign and domestic policies."

"What do I do?" I asked. "I've never done anything like this."

"You don't do much, I'm afraid," Dr. Max said. "You have to follow some rules. First, don't stand out in a crowd. There are still bad guys in the world, and we don't want to be noticed by them. They may disagree with our ideas, if you know what I mean."

"I get it," I groaned.

"Never announce who you are or where you're from," he continued. "A totally anonymous person is a safer person. Always be the kind of polite you'd reserve for royalty or the Pope. Whatever you do, don't piss people off."

"Why, will they kill me?" I snapped.

"No," he snapped back. "But you could set democracy in the Soviet Union back another 50 years."

"Fine," I grumbled.

"You must remember that you're the translator. Do the best you can to relay precisely what is said. Nothing more and nothing less. No misinterpretation, no matter how small."

"Anything else?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "You can't ever tell anyone about it. You can't even tell your husband. It's top secret."

"You want me to keep this from Walter?" I asked.

"Why? You mean you have no secrets?" he taunted me. "What about Alex Martin?"

"I hate this," I groaned.

The intercom came on. "Fasten up; we're approaching West Berlin," Leon announced.

"West Berlin?" I asked. "You said the meeting was in East Berlin."

"We can't fly to East Berlin," Dr. Max said. "They have a big wall to keep us from doing that."

I glared at him. Over a thousand people had died because of that wall. I felt like I was going to choke on the knot in my throat.

The Destiny Dream
Chapter XXIV

"When I see something messed up, I'm going to challenge it."

-Martha McSally

We went through a special gate at the Berlin Flughafen. The officials didn't question my passport at all. They stamped it with a diplomatic stamp. From there, we went to a car waiting for us, which resembled the black sedans that were used in movies about Soviets. The driver was from the GDR (German Democratic Republic), and the car was a Russian Zil.

Berlin was a whole other world. I was surrounded by people who didn't speak English. They didn't dress the same, and they didn't drive the kinds of cars we drove in the U.S. Everything there was alien enough to me that I could have just as well landed on another planet. Instead of being afraid, I began to look at every person, building, and sight with fascination. Dr. Max was right. This was the adventure of a lifetime.

It was an exciting time in the Soviet Bloc. Mikhail Gorbachev had sent one of his personal aides for the meeting, instead of an agent from the KGB. I wondered if it looked good or bad for us that we'd brought a CIA negotiator. Big changes were coming, and I'd stumbled into the middle of that process. I felt blessed to be a tiny part of it. These meetings could change history.

We drove down the Kurfurstendam, West Berlin's main thoroughfare. It was alive with billboards and bright lights. It looked a lot like Times Square in Manhattan. It was very "Western". We passed "The Bombed out Church" that the Germans had preserved in order to remind the world of the horrors of World War II. We drove by many amazing buildings and monuments as we drove through West Berlin.

Just as I was beginning to overcome my fears by pressing my face to the car window to see the sights, I noticed the car was slowing. I saw the blue and gray corrugated steel tower that was Checkpoint Charlie. It sat perched above iron gates blocking Friedrichstrasse. It was full of bullet holes and manned by soldiers carrying AK-47 machine guns and wearing Soviet uniforms. As we pulled into the station, we were engulfed by the Berlin Wall. My heart stopped, and I couldn't breathe. I'd heard about this place from Josh's family.

We got out of the car. They took our passports and visas, the extra papers that are needed to enter and leave some countries. They shined flashlights in our faces and compared us to our passport photos. They spoke to our driver, and then allowed us to get back inside the Zil. The gates opened and we entered East Berlin.

It was immediately different with dark streets, bad roads, dark creepy buildings, and empty streets. I felt a chill down my spine. It was as though we'd driven back in time.

When we pulled up at the giant, dark and creepy building where the meeting was, we were met by another Soviet Soldier. He looked at our passports and visas, and then led us to the room where Dr. Max's meeting was being held.

There were four of us at the meeting. The personal aide, Nikolai, was there, as was a KGB guy named Peotr and his translator, Alexei representing the Soviet Union. Through Alexei and I, Dr. Max, Peotr, and Nikolai talked for hours.

As far as I could understand, Gorbachev had agreed with the proposition to loosen the reins of the Soviet Bloc. He wanted the citizens be more free, and believed that some decentralization was necessary. It seemed to me that the Soviet Bloc would cease to exist as we knew it.

From what I heard and translated that night, even under the best of circumstances, the transition would be hard. That was why they needed assistance, and why there had to be a lot of meetings. There were a lot of details to get right, in order to transition the largest empire on Earth to partial democracy.

The main topic of the meeting was how to convince the German people that they were really free. After decades of fear, they were afraid that things would not change naturally, and that the locals might need a nudge. Dr. Max and the Soviet men talked for hours, and Alexei and I translated every word they said.

"We need a deeply symbolic event that couldn't possibly be seen as a trick," Dr. Max surmised.

"Yes," Peotr replied. "Nikolai and I will meet with our superiors. I will contact you. It is good to have your country's support on this matter."

"Always," Dr. Max assured him. "I'll update my superiors. There is a perfect solution somewhere."

I grunted.

"What is it?" Peotr asked me.

"Nothing," I stammered.

"Sometimes she forgets that she's only here to translate," Dr. Max told the men.

"If you have an idea, I wish to hear it," Peotr said to me.

Dr. Max looked at me. "All right. We're here to brainstorm. What do ya got?"

"I would like to hear your thoughts," Peotr assured me.

I was nervous. "Well, I'd tear down that wall."

Dr. Max said a hasty good bye to Peotr and Nikolai, and hustled me out of the building.

On the way back to West Berlin, Dr. Max didn't' speak to me or look at me. We were taken to a small hotel near the airport, where we had a brief rest before returning home. When my wakeup call came a few hours later, I was so tired that I wasn't sure where I was until I heard a jet taking off overhead. My head ached from my recurring dream. After I hung up the phone from the wakeup call, I was puzzled. I could have sworn that the music on the phone had been the song in my dream.

I sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing my eyes. "I can't believe I told the KGB to knock down the Berlin Wall."

I boarded the plane behind Dr. Max. He went into the cockpit without saying a word to me. I sat down to read a German paperback book that I'd purchased at the airport, hoping to avoid conversation for the entire trip.

Leon stuck his head in the door and grinned at me. "Good morning princess! Got any words of wisdom for me? Maybe tear down a wall?"

"Shut up," I snapped. I felt like the world's biggest moron.

The trip was silent. When we arrived in Indianapolis, my truck was at the hanger for me. Leon handed me my bags and said good-bye.

I tossed my bags into the truck, then turned to Dr. Max. "I'm sorry."

"You're new to this," he said. "Most of the time stating the obvious is a really bad move, but you foolishly put it out there. Now someone will have to address it. That's how it goes."

"I'm really sorry," I said to Dr. Max. "I should have done exactly what you said."

He smiled. "Next time you'll know better."

"Next time?" I asked.

"You actually did okay for your first time," Dr. Max replied. "Hell, I had one translator that mistranslated what I said and told Andropov that he was a fat bastard."

"Really?" I asked.

"Oh yeah," he answered. "We didn't get kicked out of the meeting, so we're good. You should go home. Hubby might wonder where you got to.." He handed me an envelope.

I took it. "What's this?"

"A paycheck," he answered. "You were commissioned by the CIA. Therefore you get paid."

I opened it. It was a check for $10,000. "Are you kidding me?"

"Will you take the job?"

"Sure," I replied.

"Will you be able to get away without explaining?" he asked. "It could be for days and at a moment's notice."

"Just say when," I said

I returned home, not as a State Police Trainee, but as an employee of the CIA. Life was about to change dramatically for me, and I couldn't tell anyone about it. I couldn't even tell Walter.

The Destiny Dream
Part XXV

"The hardest thing to explain is the glaringly evident which everybody had decided not to see."

-Ayn Rand

I hadn't called Walter at all in the last couple of days, because I was behind the Iron Curtain. There hadn't been a good time or place to call home. I figured he'd be happy that I wasn't becoming a cop. I was pretty sure he wouldn't like the idea of me working for the CIA, but I couldn't tell him about that. That was one conversation I wouldn't have to weather.

When I pulled into my driveway, there was a moving truck out front. Walter and some of his friends were loading it. Walter saw me and smiled, so I guessed he wasn't angry. He came to meet me in the front yard.

"Hi!" he said. He gave me a big hug and kiss. "I'm so glad you're home. I really missed you. How did it go?"

My husband was never interested in anything I did. I lost 55 pounds and didn't get his attention. He never gave me a second thought. I was extremely suspicious of the obvious fact that we were moving. He didn't care where I'd been for the last four days. He was just sucking up to me to avoid an argument. Some things would never change.

"I didn't make it. They were over their quota on white women."

"I'm so sorry," he replied. "Maybe you can try again next year."

"Yeah." I watched as Dwayne and Virgil, came out of the house carrying my grandma's china cupboard. "Honey, what's up?"

"You know how we told Grandma Miriam that this place needed windows, doors, siding, foundation support, and insulation for it to be comfortable?" Walter asked.

"Yes," I answered.

"Well, she bought us a new house," he said. "You'll love it."

Miriam moved all the time. Every time she got bored, she built a new house for herself. Now she was buying us houses. I'd never met anyone who bought houses the way I bought shoes. People with too much money. That was my in-laws.

"Wow," I said.

"Are you upset?" he asked. "I tried to call you, but the hotel said you'd checked out. I didn't know how to reach you."

"I barely got a chance to enjoy the decor I just finished," I said.

"But it's cold in the winter, and we get bats all summer," he argued. "Look, the new house is great, and it's on the other side of town."

"Really?" I asked.

"I knew that would get to you!" he exclaimed. "Yes, away from my parents. So, what do you say? Will you give it a chance?"

"Okay." I loved the idea of moving away from his parents.

That day we finished moving into the new house. It was a ranch, and it was much nicer than the house we'd been living in. I discovered a pool table in the cellar room, which made me nervous. Walter loved toys. I was positive that he'd not really looked at anything after he saw the pool table. I realized I was right when I found out that the house had radiant electric ceiling heat. I'd never seen anything like that in a house before, and I've never seen it again. I have no idea what the designer of that system was thinking. Heat rises—duh.

That summer, Walter spent whatever spare time he had chopping wood on Dwayne's farm, so we would have wood to burn in the woodstove in the winter. Ceiling heat was useless. That house and its woodstove provided yet one more thing to keep my husband away from home and me.

I was on my own. I decided not to fall back into my depression, so I decided to go to work. The Parks and Recreation Superintendent offered me a job managing the local swimming pool complex. The local ambulance needed a substitute EMT part time. The exercise studio had two aerobics classes that needed an instructor. They were all good offers, so I took all of them.

Running the pool complex was a challenge. I had to coordinate more than a dozen events on a regular basis in that one pool. I had to monitor the maintenance routines and schedule 17 lifeguards around their personal schedules. There were memberships to keep up with, newspaper ads to run, supply orders, budgets, and reports for the town board members who governed my department. I loved every minute of it.

After work, I stopped by the exercise studio to teach a couple of classes. I loved to get paid for working out. In my spare time I worked for the ambulance service.

I was a very busy woman. My husband didn't miss me, because he was never home.

Dr. Max had me translate calls about once a week, and he paid me $1,000 for each session. He and KGB Peotr were still discussing the transition of East Germany and other Soviet countries. I really wanted to travel again. I couldn't stop thinking about the trip to East Berlin. Thank God, no one mentioned my comments about the Berlin Wall.

I loved all of my jobs. I quit worrying about my marriage. I no longer dwelled on Walter being gone all the time, so I no longer got depressed. Paula, one of my best friends from years past, and I started hanging out again. I'd missed her. Paula was the only living person I'd ever told the details of my recurring dream to. She too was convinced that it meant something. I wasn't nearly so sure. I was still pretty sure that it was just a stupid dream.

Another friend that I reconnected with was Jake. Jacob Schlemmer. He'd gone to school with my older half brother on my dad's side, and I hadn't seen him since I was a little kid. Jake was a divorce and personal injury attorney. He came to the pool for a swim and a workout three times every week. It was one of the ways he worked off the stress of his divorce. He'd caught his wife cheating on him with a friend from school, so he had a lot of stress to work off.

One night, just after the Fourth of July, Jake, Paula, Jake's friend Dave, and I were sitting around drinking margaritas, when I saw something unusual on TV. We were watching "World News Tonight" in anticipation of the latest rerun of "MacGyver." The news was showing a story about an incident at Fishkill Correctional Facility. It was the incident that I was there for a few years earlier.

"I remember that!" I exclaimed.

"A prison break?" Jake asked.

"Was that the day?" Paula asked.

I looked at Paula. "Yes."

"What day?" Jake asked.

They showed a clip of Marshall Benjamin Hansen. The narrator talked about the difficulties that Marshall Hansen had gone through since the incident. Marshall Hansen had been through five surgeries and had physical disabilities because of that incident. I had no idea. I hadn't seen or heard anything about the incident since it happened. Marshall Hansen had been physically forced into retirement.

"A few years ago, I drove out to Connecticut to visit my cousin Anne," I said. "I had to drive by that prison, and that incident was happening at the time. I was right there when that Marshall was shot. I waited with him until the ambulance arrived."

"Wow," Jake said. "What do you mean, right there?"

"The escapee tried to jack my car," I said. "I was right there. If it weren't for Marshall Hansen, he would have shot me."

"Holy shit," Jake said.

"I had no idea his injuries were that bad," I said. "Maybe I should try and get in touch with him."

"I wouldn't do that," Paula said. "You should have stayed when that happened. You were a witness and fled the scene. I would stay out of it. Besides, wasn't that the day it started?"

"What?" I asked her.

"The thing," she said.

She was right. That was the night the dream had started. "Oh, yeah."

"What thing?" Jake asked.

"Never mind," I said. "MacGyver is coming on."

I didn't want to talk about that day any more. I didn't want to think about any of that stuff from my earlier years. I didn't want to think about my parents, or my twin whom I hadn't heard from in a long time. I didn't want to think about Stewart or babies or that stupid dream.

That night, after too many margaritas, I had the dream for the first time in a month or so. I thought later that it must have been because of seeing Marshall Hansen on TV. The dream was the usual, except that in the middle of it I saw my grandma's face and she wasn't happy. She scolded me for not following the dream. She scolded me for being stubborn. Then I saw me and the man dancing at the special event. I heard the song loud and clear. The man looked a lot like Marshall Hansen. That had to be a coincidence. I woke in a cold sweat as usual, and in an empty bedroom because Walter had gone on a fire call in the middle of the night.

I sat up and looked at Bop, who was staring at me from the foot of the bed. "Sorry bud," I apologized. "I just had a really stupid dream."

The Destiny Dream
Part XXVI

"I don't know where my songs come from... If I knew, I'd know too much, more than we are allowed on this plane."

-Judy Collins

I rode my bicycle all summer long, soon it was fall and it was time to buy a car. I loved my bike, but I wasn't riding it to work during a Midwestern winter. I made an appointment with my husband. We went out to the local tavern for dinner. Our weekly dinner dates had dried up again after we moved to the new house. He was always busy chopping wood for the upcoming winter with electric ceiling heat, when he wasn't doing everything else on his regular agenda.

Walter worked at a Ford dealership in Wabash, and he told me to come down and pick out a car. Miriam had given him a check for $12,000 as an early birthday present for me. I had plenty of money to buy my own car, but there was no talking to anyone in that family about having my own money. I let it sit in the bank account for a rainy day. I was determined to buy a car with my CIA money.

Miriam insisted that I buy a car, because having her grandson's wife running around town on a bicycle didn't look respectable. I'd never been hung up on appearances, but appearances were all that Walter's family cared about. I didn't care what anyone thought as long as I got a car.

The next day, I pulled up in front of Paula's house in Walter's truck. I wanted company to shop for a car, so she had offered to go along for the day. Walter had borrowed a car from Miriam to drive so I could drive the truck around to shop. I had CIA money to spend, and I was on top of the world. I felt like I'd just won the lottery, because I was finally being allowed to have my own car. The best part was that I would be able to go anywhere I wanted at any time. I was free at last.

Paula and I took off in the truck, like we used to before I got married. It was just the two of us like old times. We hadn't had a day out and about together in years. We'd only been able to get together at one another's houses, because I hadn't had a car and Paula didn't drive.

"We're going to write a check for a car?" Paula asked. "That's how you buy groceries, that's not how you buy a car."

"I know," I said. I pulled away from her house and started down the street. "Walter's family has too much money. This is my birthday present to me. The best part is that the money I'm using is mine. Miriam's money can sit and rot for all I care."

Paula shook her head. "Can you get her to adopt me?"

"Miriam has so much money; she could adopt half the town," I replied.

"Damn," Paula mumbled.

I was searching for a pop station on the radio as I drove down Wayne Street. Walter was a hard core Country Music fan and I preferred Pop Music.

"What are you looking for?" Paula asked. She pushed my hand away. "Let me do that. Watch the road, will you?"

"I want 95.7," I said. "I hate that country shit."

"There it is," she said. The station started to blare. "Speaking of music, how goes the dream?"

"I haven't had it lately, why?" I asked.

"I was watching this show about dreams on TV the other night, and it made me think of you," she said. "Especially after you told me about the version you had after we saw that news story about the Marshall."

"Yeah, that was weird," I said. "What did your show say? Am I completely crazy?"

"No," she scoffed. "They say that every dream means something. A location can draw you to where you're supposed to be. A person that you can't identify can be someone you haven't met yet. Dancing means romance or love. In short, they support the destiny dream theory."

"I talked to a guy from Jamaica years ago, and he told me that his family had psychics in it and said that most dreams are a result of things people had eaten," I replied.

"Do you eat the same thing for dinner every time you dream?" Paula asked.

"No," I grumbled.

"You've been to the place in your dream," Paula said. "Maybe you should go back there."

"Sure," I groaned. "But, I don't know where it is."

"You said it was in Connecticut," she pointed out.

"Somewhere in Connecticut." I snapped. "It's not a big state, but it's still a big place. It could be anywhere. Why am I even talking about this? It's just a stupid dream. I'm married. That's all there is to it."

"I think you're wrong," Paula argued. "It wouldn't bug you so much if it really didn't mean anything."

I didn't answer. I turned up the radio and turned onto the two lane country Highway #13 toward Wabash. We rode in silence. Paula knew that dream was making me crazy. I didn't want to talk about it anymore or think about it anymore. And what about the song? What did that really mean? It was the song that drove me insane.

The song—that stupid song played over and over in my mind every time I had that dream. All I could think about was that song. It was stuck in my mind at that moment, because Paula had brought it up. It was playing in my mind at that moment. I was awake and it was invading my consciousness.

"That's all you wanted

Someone special, someone sacred

In your life

For just one moment, to be warm

And naked, at my side..."

Paula stared at me, her mouth wide open. I was singing the song from my dream out loud. It was playing on the radio.

I lost control of the F-250, and it veered off the road into a soybean field where I brought the truck to a stop.

Paula stared at me. I stared at the radio.

"If you are the desert, I'll be the sea. If you ever hunger, hunger for me. Whatever you ask for that's what I'll be." I recognized every word and every note. We sat in silence and listened. I had to hear what the DJ said about it.

"There you have it," the DJ announced at the end of the song. "The ban of George Michael's album, 'Faith' has finally been lifted and that was our first time playing his hit single, 'Father Figure'. You heard it first, right here, post ban, on 95.7 FM."

Paula was white as a ghost. "You know the words? I've never heard it before. Do you have the album?"

I felt like I was going to choke. "That's the song."

"That's the song?" she asked. "It's that song?"

"Yeah. That's the song in my dream," I said.

"How long have you been having that dream?" she asked.

"Years," I replied.

Everyone was right. That song hadn't been around for years, even though I was sure I'd heard it somewhere before besides my dream. George Michael was still with Wham when I started dreaming that song, so I must have dreamed it before it was recorded. It sounded exactly the same on the radio as it did in my head. It was the exact same recording.

It was a destiny dream. There was no other explanation. I didn't believe in it, but I couldn't explain that song any other way. There was something important about the reservoirs in Connecticut, yet I had no idea what or where they were. There was something significant about the guardian angel pin that Bibi had left for me on the bus. There was something special about the guy in my dream. I hadn't met him yet. I was wearing a wedding ring in my dream that looked nothing like mine. That could only mean one thing.

"Oh my God," I gasped. "The dream has to be real. It has to be. The song is real."

"Yeah," she replied.

I leaned my head back and covered my eyes with my arm. The man in my dream that apparently I was married to was tall. Walter wasn't tall.

"What?" Paula asked.

I looked at Paula. "If that dream is real, then I married the wrong man."

I bought a bright red Chevy Beretta that day. I knew I had to have it when I sat in the driver's seat and pulled down the sun visor. I was sure that it was the sun visor in my dream. I put the guardian angel pin on it, and it looked perfect. I didn't want to believe it, but I knew deep inside that it was a sign. I bought the car for $10,000. I wrote a check. It was exhilerating.

Once I had my own car, I saw even less of my husband, if that were possible. Paula and I scheduled time each week to get together and research my dream. We went to every bookstore, head shop, and occult bazaar we could find. We read dream dictionaries, dream encyclopedias, and books by psychics. We got no definitive answers. If one book said that the dream was linked to romance, another said it was about something else. The process gave me headaches, but it fueled a lifelong passion in me. I would spend the bulk of my life studying dreams.

I slipped away quite a bit for Dr. Max's phone calls with Peotr during that time. Paula was the one who noticed, not Walter. She thought I was having an affair with Jake. I finally told her that I was translating for a professor at the local college on conference calls with foreign professors.

My parents bought a business which I ended up managing for them in my spare time. I spent a lot of time with Jake for moral support during his divorce. Paula and I were getting nowhere with the dream, and most of the time, I had no idea where Walter actually was.

Looking back, I realize that at that time, my marriage was of no consequence. No one in town ever saw the two of us together. I went days at a time without seeing Walter. I never worried about him leaving me or cheating on me. I don't think I cared. On the few occasions when I needed to reach him, I found him. I always had a date for the holidays. He cut wood for heat. I didn't know it then, but it was a marriage of convenience, and I was emotionally numb.

The Destiny Dream
Part XXVII

"I don't have two different personalities. I am what I am."

-Judge Judy Sheindlin

It was a Friday night in October. I was at the local tavern with Jake and half a dozen other friends, as was normal for a Friday night. We ate nachos, drank beer, and played video games until the bar closed. Walter never wanted to join us.

I was deeply involved in a game of Tetris, while the guys yelled over a rousing game of Fussball, when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"I hate to bother you, but I need a favor," Dr. Max said.

I let the game go and turned to face him. "Sure, what's up?"

He pulled me to a table out of earshot of the guys. "I hate to do this, but I need you to get away for a couple of days."

"Okay," I replied. "When?"

"Now," he said.

"Right this minute?" I asked.

"It's an emergency," he said.

He handed me a piece of paper. "AP wire--Dateline Prague, Czechoslovakia. In a major governmental shake-up today, Czechoslovak Premier Lubomir Strougal, who headed the federal government for more than 18 years, and Slovak Premier Peter Colotka resigned, the state news agency CTK reported."

"What does this mean?" I asked.

"I don't know," Dr. Max replied. "That's what we need to go and figure out right now. I have a meeting."

"Do I really have to go?" I asked. "It's creepy."

"I have to take an official translator to every meeting," he said. "That's the rule."

I help up the paper. "This is the beginning of a revolution. War, you know? I don't go to wars. And, I don't speak Czech."

"First, it's never as bad as the media makes it sound," he explained. "Secondly, they all speak German."

I waved the paper again. "This sounds bad."

"Please," Dr. Max begged. "I have to go. I don't have a choice. I need a translator, and I want it to be you. This is a delicate situation, and you've become the best translator I've ever used."

"Why you?" I asked. "You've been dealing with East German issues."

"They need experienced people in Soviet matters," he told me. "I have 25 years of experience."

"Is Peotr in the middle of this too?" I asked.

"Right smack," Dr. Max replied. "The rest of the leaders are nervous. The populous is ready for change. It's delicate and involves nuclear weapons."

"A little revolution every now and again is a good thing?" I asked.

"The Soviet release is coming," he said.

"I've heard you guys discussing it for months," I replied "There's been no real change."

"It takes time. We need time to map it out," he told me. "Right now we have to come up with a way to calm the people of Czechoslovakia down. anarchy is not the way to bring about change. That's how the whole damn Soviet mess got started in the first place. Will you come with me, please?"

I glanced around to see if anyone was looking at us. All of my friends were occupied. I reached over and picked up my coat and purse from the table where I'd been sitting. I took my wallet out of my purse and laid a few bills on the table to cover my part of the tab.

I pushed Dr. Max toward the nearest exit. "Come on," I said. "Disappearing is probably my best option."

I stopped by my house to pick up a few things and my passport. I was going to meet Dr. Max at the swimming pool. I would leave a note for the superintendent, letting him know that I'd be back in a couple of days. The superintendent wouldn't ask.

I pulled into my driveway, and Walter was home for once. He was asleep in his recliner. Bop went crazy with excitement, but he didn't bark, so Walter didn't wake up. I snuck by him, packed a bag, and grabbed my passport. I grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste and turned to leave. I found Walter standing in the bathroom doorway.

I had no idea what to say. "Hi honey."

"Hi. What's going on?" he asked. He stared at the bag.

"I have to go away for a couple of days," I answered.

"That's it?" he snapped. "I find you sneaking out in the middle of the night with luggage, and all you can say is that you have to go away? Where are you going? Why didn't you tell me?"

I didn't know what to say. "An old friend of mine asked me to do a favor for him, and I have to go away to do the favor."

"This doesn't have to do with Jake, does it?" he asked.

"No," I growled. "If you must know, it's Dr. Max."

I waited for his response, but he didn't know who I was talking about. I'd only told him a hundred times that I'd been doing some side jobs at the college for Dr. Max.

"The college stuff that I mentioned," I said. "He's the professor I've been doing some work for." I waited for a reply. "I've mentioned it several times."

"You're going away with him?" he snapped.

"It's work!" I yelled.

"What kind of work makes you sneak out on your husband in the middle of the night?" he demanded.

"He has meetings with Europeans. I'm his translator," I explained.

"Translator?" he asked. "Do you speak a foreign language?"

"Yes," I replied.

"What?" he asked.

I'd spoken German most of my life, but my husband didn't know that. He didn't know a lot of things about me. I didn't know much about him either. We were strangers.

"I have to go," I said. "We'll talk when I get back. I speak German, Walter. I've spoken it most of my life."

He followed me through the house. "Where are you going? Why all the secrets?"

"I think we're going to Czechoslovakia," I said.

"You're joking, right?"

"No. Look, I have to go," I insisted. "I'll be back in a couple of days. I'll call you if you want me to."

"I'll stick around to answer the call," he murmured.

"I'm really sorry I can't talk more right now," I said. "I have to catch a plane. Don't forget to feed Bop and take him out. I'll be home in a couple of days. I'll explain more then. I wasn't supposed to tell you any of this stuff. It's top secret."

He gaped at me. "Top secret?"

"Dr. Max is a CIA negotiator. Everything he does is top secret," I said. "See you in a couple of days."

Walter stood in the garage, mouth hanging open, as I pulled away in my Beretta. I hated lies. Dr. Max was going to kill me, but I was married, and my marriage had enough problems without adding lies to it.

The Destiny Dream
Part XXVIII

"I like Mr. Gorbachev, we can do business together."

-Margaret Thatcher

I still couldn't stand to be around Leon, so I tried to sleep on the plane. My problem was that since I'd identified the song in my dream, it had become so disturbing that I woke up before the dream ended. It had been waking me up almost every night since I'd found out that the song was "Father Figure". That night on the plane, I dreamed again. I woke the instant that the guy came into the picture. I looked around, dazed, until I realized where I was.

"Jesus, I'm never gonna sleep again," I mumbled.

After we took off from Dulles for Europe, Dr. Max came back and sat with me. "You've been quiet. What's on your mind?"

I rubbed my eyes. "Why is this happening now?"

"The Czechs are ready for change," he commented. "For the record, it's normally one of the quieter parts of the Soviet Bloc. The unrest really started with the anniversary of the Soviets marching into the country back in '44. Peotr asked me to come and meet with some people. The government is severely nervous.

I couldn't argue. Peotr was a good guy. "I had to tell Walter."

"What did he say?" Dr. Max asked.

"Not much," I replied. "Aren't you going to yell at me, or fire me, or have me shot or something?"

"I can't tell you how to handle your husband," he said. "Will he tell anyone?"

"No. He's in shock right now," I explained.

"Why?" Dr. Max asked. "Does he think I'm James Bond?"

"No, he just realized how little he knows about his wife," I explained. "He didn't even know I speak German."

"Wow," he said. "I thought everyone knew that."

I shook my head. "I'm not sure he knows me at all."

"Pack it in guys, we're coming into Zurich," Leon announced, abruptly over the intercom.

"Zurich?" I asked. "Isn't that in Switzerland?"

"Yes, it is," Dr. Max replied.

I sat up and looked out the window. "I thought you said we were going to Czechoslovakia?"

"I had no time to get Visas," he explained. "It's dangerous there anyway. You didn't think I would let you go into the middle of a revolution, did you? This called for a meeting on neutral ground. It doesn't get more neutral than Switzerland."

Everything was new to me in Zurich. Switzerland was more like the Europe that I'd seen in the movies than Berlin had been. The city was modern, but it had a big Old Town. The city was nestled in the mountains on the edge of a picturesque mountain lake. We rode in tiny taxis, designed for the twisting narrow streets of an ancient town like Zurich.

The Hotel Adler was an historic building, subtly updated for modern times. There was a glass case in the lobby that held the plans for more renovations that were going to start soon. My room was full of old world charm, with antique furniture and a big four poster bed. The comforter was down with a white linen cover, and there were only fitted sheets, which was the European way. I had a beautiful bay window overlooking Rosengrasse, the street below, with a comfortable window seat.

I unpacked and called my husband as I'd promised. At the time, I had to call an international operator and wait for a callback with a connected line to reach the U.S.

"Hello...hello?" Walter said. "Princess, are you there?"

"Yeah," I replied. "I'm here, and I'm fine. I'm really sorry I ran out. I was running late before."

"That's okay," he said. "I watched the news, and the stuff about Czechoslovakia is scary."

"There's nothing to worry about," I assured him. "I'm in Zurich, Switzerland."

"What the hell are you doing in Switzerland?" he asked.

"Dr. Max said that they decided to meet in Zurich, because Switzerland is a neutral country," I explained.

"At least you're safe," Walter said. "I really do want to talk when you get home."

"Why?" I questioned him.

"You work for the CIA, and I had no idea.," he said. "I feel like I'm losing you."

I was shocked. "You mean you want to get to know me?"

"Yeah," he replied. "I obviously have a lot to catch up on."

"You're not mad?" I asked.

"No," he replied. "This whole spy thing is quite a bomb. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad it wasn't about another guy. When I saw you packing, that was my first thought."

"I would never do that," I replied. "I do have to go. The meeting starts soon. They talk for hours without a break. I'll probably be home tomorrow night."

"Good," he said. "I'll be here, and I'll be looking forward to hearing all about it. I'm really curious."

"I'm glad," I said. "I'd love to tell you all about it. Please, don't tell anyone. This stuff is mundane, but it's still top secret. I wasn't supposed to tell you anything."

"I haven't said a word, and I won't," he told me. "I've never broken a promise to you, Princess. Now, go translate. I love you."

I smiled. He hadn't said that in ages. "I love you too."

A plethora of intelligentsia gathered for that conference. They took over the conference room at the hotel. There were negotiators from all the Eastern Bloc countries, as well as the United Kingdom, West Germany, France, and Dr. Max. Most of them were middle aged and highly experienced intelligence agents. Each negotiator brought a translator, but I was the only woman.

The meeting went on for ten hours. There was a lot of yelling and a few threats tossed around. They discussed bringing troops in, cutting ties with Moscow immediately, martial law, overthrowing the government altogether and every other frightening thought imaginable.

I mostly listened, and the whole meeting scared me to death. It was one thing to listen to Peotr and Dr. Max talk about how to peacefully transition from Communism into Democracy. It was entirely different to hear those guys discuss how to quash an uprising. No peaceful resolution was suggested for Czechoslovakia, and the scariest part was that every one of them had the power to make their idea happen. They each had the ear of a leader. Tanks could come rolling into St. Wenceslas Square because this group of men decided to recommend it.

They screamed and yelled and drank coffee until they just couldn't talk anymore. That was about the time that a phone call came and told them all to go home. Everyone packed up their briefcases, said good bye and left. The meeting was completely pointless. James Bond made for more sense to me than the real intelligentsia, or at least that branch of intelligence.

I had just enough time before we left to do some quick looking around and chocolate shopping. I wanted to visit Switzerland again sometime, but as a tourist.

Walter was waiting for me when I got home. He really wasn't angry. We talked all night that night and ate some of the chocolate that I'd brought home with me. We hadn't talked like that since before we'd gotten married.

Walter was proud of me, which I hadn't realized. He said that the idea of me being a housewife was his family's idea. He had no problem with me working, even for the CIA. Walter said that he fell in love with me, because I wasn't like other women. He reminded me of the night we'd met, when I'd been shooting at an escaped killer. I didn't realize that my personality was a factor. I thought he just wanted a wife.

I was brutally honest with him that night, and told him that I'd believed for a long time that he didn't care about me. I told him we had a lot of work to do to get to a good place in our relationship. He promised me he would try. He promised to spend more time with me. He said that he wanted to go out with me and my friends.

That night, I felt better about us than I had since before we moved in together. We were communicating. That was a good thing. I decided that night that the destiny dream was ridiculous. I was in charge of my life, and I would make my marriage work. Walter loved me. He wanted to make it work too. I went to bed and straight to sleep. I was exhausted from my jaunt to Switzerland and talking all night while fighting jet lag.

From that point on, I dreamed that dream every single night, but other than that, things went pretty well for a long time. Walter and I took a couple of trips together. We went to visit my cousin, Anne and her family. I talked with Anne about revisiting the reservoirs that we had gone to when I was visiting several years before, but neither she, nor John could remember exactly where we'd gone. As a result, we didn't go back to that spot, but we saw many new places. Walter and I had a good time, despite his lack of travel experience.

By May of 1989, I'd quit translating. Dr. Max and Peotr had discussed everything on their agenda, and then we had to wait for someone to put all of their ideas into action.

My life went back to normal with work at all my jobs. Walter and I spent more time together, and things were good. For the first time ever, we did a home project together. We remodeled our kitchen. Walter said that he felt close to me for the first time in years when we were tearing the cabinets out of our kitchen.

My mother in law had a hysterectomy, I had the measles, and Walter and I each lost another grandmother. We both helped my friend Jake through the end of a very bitter divorce. I went to graduation ceremonies for four of my lifeguards, and stood up for some more of my girlfriends at their weddings.

The week after Halloween, Walter and I were spending a scheduled evening at home when the phone rang. It was Dr. Max. "Hey kiddo. How are you?"

"I'm great, Dr. Max. What's up with you?" I asked.

"Do you remember when you smarted off about the Berlin Wall?" he asked.

"God, yes. Don't remind me," I laughed.

"Turn on CNN," he said.

I took the remote away from Walter and turned on CNN, the all news network.

"Oh my God!" I exclaimed.

"I thought you should know," Dr. Max said.

I sat up all night that night on November 9, 1989, watching the citizens of East and West Germany break through and start to tear down the Berlin Wall.

The Destiny Dream
Part XXIX

"When you have a dream, you've got to grab it and never let go."

-Carol Burnett

Things in my life had gone pretty well since I'd told Walter about the CIA. My translating work seemed to be over, but my marriage was better. Things were good. However, in my life that was when something paradoxically horrible would happen.

And it did. Everything at the pool had been great, but my boss was suddenly let go, and that was when they hired Homer. Homer was a recently retired Air Force Recruiter and devout Mormon. Homer's entire list of qualifications to be a Parks and Recreation Superintendent revolved around the fact that he used to mow lawns in Jackson Hole Wyoming. I didn't know much about Homer when he got the job, but I soon learned that I should have run away as fast as I could the minute I heard that he was to be my boss.

My grandma always said that I had to do everything the hard way, and that situation was no different. I believed that I could deal with Homer and continue to do my job. At first I thought he was just getting used to civilian life. My friend, Jake, told me to go after Homer for harassment. I thought I could make it work. I believed in harmony and diplomacy. Then, a few weeks into Homer's reign, he cut my hours and took away a lot of my responsibilities and my job title as manager. Before I knew it, I was nothing more than a part time lifeguard.

At about the same time that Homer had come along, Walter started to drift away again. I'd returned to that miserable and familiar situation where I barely saw Walter. As a result rumors started to circulate about Jake and me. With no real job or a marriage to keep me busy, I felt like I'd stepped back in time to when I had no purpose in my life. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was sinking into a deep depression again. I was trying to keep the peace and make everyone happy. I didn't have the nerve to tell everyone what I thought. I couldn't speak my mind, and I knew that had to change and soon. I couldn't lose myself in that deep depression again. I couldn't live that way.

It was mid February. Jake and I went out after work one Friday night, and I was feeling particularly low because I hadn't seen my husband all week, and I'd only worked 18 hours. Everything was falling apart. Jake and I were normally out with a whole group of people, but that night it was just the two of us. We were sitting at the bar drinking beer and eating nachos.

"What's up at the pool?" Jake asked.

"It's that moron, Homer," I answered.

"I met him," Jake said. "Seems a bit off."

"He's a Mormon, and women should be barefoot and pregnant," I complained.

"Is that why I see mostly guys around there?" he asked.

"Wow, I thought it was just me," I replied. "None of the women work much anymore."

"I wouldn't take that if I were you," Jake said.

"What can I do?" I asked. "The board made him the boss, and they didn't argue when he demoted me."

"Call me crazy, but why don't you do something worthwhile with your life?" he asked.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I snapped.

"I know you want to write, and you're the smartest, most amazing woman I know," Jake said. "You don't need to deal with some male chauvinist moron. You're above that. Why not go to school and finally get the degree in journalism you keep talking about?"

Jake was right. I was 25. I wasn't getting any younger. I'd tired of delivering babies on farms as an EMT, running my parents' businesses, and everything that had to do with the Parks and Recreation Department. Since I was eight years old, I'd wanted to write. It was time to go to school and learn how.

"When did you get so smart?" I asked Jake. "You know me so well."

"I should go," he said, standing up and putting on his parka.

"Did I miss something?" I asked. "Why are you leaving? It's early."

He smiled at me. "We've been inseparable for years. Yeah, you missed it." He came over to me, leaned down and looked deep into my eyes. "You are like a work of art. You're beautiful, and you get more beautiful the longer I look at you. I spend my spare time wondering what goes on in that brilliant mind of yours. I study you, and I know you better than I know myself. Just like a work of art, I can never touch you, and you'll never be mine. I never tell you how I feel, because I don't want to lose you. I am now and always will be your friend. I support your every dream completely. Now, put this pig in his place and get on with your life."

It had never occurred to me that my best friend was in love with me. Jake had always been a great friend. We talked about everything, like siblings did. He knew everything about me. He even knew about Cassie and my miscarriage. I hadn't seen it. How could I have missed that?

I was scared. Jake was my best friend, my support, my confidante. I couldn't imagine my life without him in it. All of my friends were off doing their own thing, as was Walter. Without Jake, I had no one. I realized that Jake had been playing the role of my husband in many ways. I'd been blind. I hadn't wanted to see it. The whole town had seen it. He was in love with me, and I'd let it happen. What a mess.

I went home, went to bed, and cried myself to sleep. No one was there to notice. I heard "Father Figure". The dream was back. It had been a while that time. The reservoirs in fall, the angel pin, the guy, the dance, the ring, and "Father Figure" playing the entire time. The man in that dream was tall and blonde. I woke up in a sweat. I married the wrong man.

I didn't see or talk to anyone for a few days. I didn't return any of Jake's calls. I was dangerously close to receding back into that shell that I'd worked so hard to crawl out of. That's when I first started having long talks with Lauren. I'd known Lauren since she'd been born. Over the years I hadn't known her well. I'd known her mom and older sister far better, but Lauren and I had one very important thing in common. She too, had a husband who didn't appear to have any interest in her. Her husband also spent all of his spare time helping buddies on their farms and hanging out with the other volunteer firemen.

I spent many years wondering what it was about the fire department that kept all those guys hanging out there hour after hour and day after day like a little local cult. All the guys went there every day to hang out. If one of the women showed up there, they all suddenly had to leave. Women were completely unwelcome. They only had one or two real fires a year in the district. To this day, I've never known if they actually did things during all of those thousands of hours at the fire station, or if they all just sat around bullshitting. They were probably bullshitting.

Lauren and I started to hang out and bitch about our guys several days a week. I saw way more of her than I did of Walter. I told Lauren almost everything about my life. I told her that Jake was in love with me, and how devastated I was, because he was my best friend. I mostly told her about how lonely and miserable I was, because Walter and I didn't see each other for days at a time. I told her that I only knew that he'd stopped by the house because he'd changed clothes and left his dirty laundry all over the house for me to wash.

Lauren listened well. I returned the favor by listening to her talk about her problems with her husband.

One day while I was bitching about Walter, she commented, "Maybe it's just me, but has it ever dawned on you that you miss Jake more than Walter? You seem angry at Walter, but sad about Jake."

"I miss my best friend," I answered.

"I know," she replied. "But you don't seem to miss your husband. You know what I mean?"

Two weeks had passed since the incident with Jake. I'd talked to Lauren for hours, but I hadn't really thought about it. She was right. I hadn't been upset or cried because I'd missed my husband. I was used to Walter being gone. I missed Jake more than I missed my husband. I was absolutely not in love with Jake. I only saw him as a friend. The bottom line, however, was that I really didn't care about Walter any more.

The Destiny Dream
Part XXX

"You'll never find a better sparring partner than adversity."

-Golda Meir

Then end of February came. The work schedules for March were posted at the pool. Homer had only scheduled me to work as a lifeguard and for five hours a week.

I'd been passive for so long that I'd lost all control over my own life. I'd become noted for letting everyone in my life treat me like a completely expendable, worthless piece of crap that loved to be treated like a doormat. My family used me to run their business. For my husband, I was a one woman household staff. To my boss, I was completely useless, because I was a woman.

That was the day that I completely snapped. My life was going to change. No one, but no one would ever help me change my life. No one cared enough to support me, so that was it. I had to stand up and make it known that I'd had enough. I wasn't going to take it anymore. Back off everyone, I had arrived.

After the water aerobics class that I was watching over ended, I went to Homer's office. I walked in and shut the door behind me. He looked up from a blueprint for a baseball park that would never be built. He most likely didn't understand what he was looking at anyway.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"We need to talk," I replied.

"Sure," he began, and pulled out an appointment book. "Let's see..."

I slammed the book shut on his desk. "Now."

"What?" he snapped.

"You cut my hours again. Why?"

"I have my reasons," he said.

"I asked you why!" I yelled. "Today you're going to answer me."

"Because you're a married women," he replied.

"What!"

"You're married. You have a husband to take care of you. You don't need the job," he replied.

"You're such a chauvinist pig," I announced. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I'm your boss, and you'll do whatever I tell you to do."

"Oh yeah?" I snapped. "I have a news flash for you. I don't have to do anything. Whether you like it or not, women have rights. I'm way too good for this." I tossed my keys to the building onto his desk. "I won't be in tomorrow. The next day doesn't look good either."

"Are you quitting?" he asked.

"Yes, I am," I announced.

"And what do you think you're going to do? I thought you had to have a job. I thought you wanted to work for a living," he snapped.

"I think I'll get a new job. Somewhere that I can be appreciated, instead of put in my place by some small penissed ass," I said. "And then, I'm going to go to college and get a degree in journalism."

"Big dreams for little girls," he said. "What should I tell the board is your official reason for leaving?"

I smiled. I turned and opened the door to leave. When I opened the door, I saw all of the ladies from the water aerobics class standing in the lobby listening to the argument we were having. I smiled at them. I turned back to Homer and smiled at him again.

"I'll tell you what you should tell the board," I said. "You tell them that my official reason for leaving is because I like myself too much to work for you." I slammed the door and walked out. "Good bye ladies!" I shouted to the group of stunned ladies in the lobby and walked out of the building.

I've never felt anything but anger toward Homer. I've never again felt as useless and degraded as that man made me feel. I stood up and let him know how awful he was, and I've never once regretted that. That was the first time and the last time that I ever walked out on a job.

I was 25, and I'd wasted enough of my life. My hometown had a small, religious, highly accredited, international, 4 year liberal arts college. Manchester College was less than a mile from the swimming pool and had a great English and journalism program. I was in the administration building getting my application less than 15 minutes after walking out on Homer. I was ready to get my formal education.

Three days later, I had been accepted at Manchester College for the fall term of that year. I was finally starting college seven years after graduating high school. The day after I got my acceptance letter to college, I started working for a retail chain store with better pay, flexible hours, and discounts. I knew it wouldn't be the job of my dreams, but it was what I needed at that time.

Walter was surprised when he heard I'd quit my job, and he was stunned when I told him that I'd told my parents to hire some help at their store.

The first words out of Walter's mouth when I told him that I was going to college were, "Why the hell would you want to waste my money on something as stupid as college? You're a woman. Why don't you act like one for once?"

That changed everything, forever. There was absolutely no respect in that comment. There was no denying that my husband had no respect for me. He never had, and he never would, no matter what he said when he wanted to appease me.

"You actually believe that I'm not worth a shit, because I'm a woman, don't you?" I said. I'd never challenged him to a fight before, but it was time.

"You don't get it," he said.

"Fine. Explain yourself," I demanded.

"We're never going to have to worry about money. Why do you want to spend all that time, energy, and money when you don't need to? Why can't you just relax for once in your life?" he said. "Damn it, all you've ever had to do is take care of me. But, no, that's not enough. You wanted to be a cop, so I had to go through that whole fiasco. Then, you spent all your time at that pool, on the ambulance, and running your parents' store for free. You got mixed up with the CIA. You get one crazy idea after another, but you've never finished anything. You've never done anything that you said you were going to do. You won't finish one single term in college. When it isn't all fun and games, you'll bail. Why don't you just grow up and quit daydreaming about a life that you'll never have?"

After he stormed out on me, I didn't see him for three days. When Walter finally came home he said that he would allow me to go to school, because he wanted me to be happy. He still didn't believe that anything would come of it. He thought that I couldn't grow up. The best part wasn't even my own husband's judgment of me. The best part was that my in-laws openly thought I was too stupid to go to college, but they allowed me to give it a shot.

I was hurt. I went out and mortgaged my house to pay for college. I refused to take one more dime from Miriam. I didn't want her to pay for my education, because I didn't think that she believed in me, and because I refused to owe my education to the family. I was taking control of my life, which meant that I was now in charge of funding.

My husband was pissed off about the mortgage payment. My parents were upset because they had to handle their own affairs. The town board was mad because Homer couldn't even handle the chemical mix in the pool, and the whole place had to be closed for two weeks in order to rectify the chemical problems. It was like the whole world fell apart because I got tired of taking care of it. Insignificant my ass.

The only person who didn't seem to hate me was Miriam. She wanted to pay for my tuition, but she understood why I couldn't let her. Miriam was proud of me for taking a stand. She even said that she wished she'd been more like me when she was my age. Surprisingly, Miriam did respect me and, she was the only person in my life that seemed to. She said she admired me. It still surprises me.

I had the dream every night again, so Paula and I were trying once again, to make sense of it. Paula too, thought I was ridiculous for going to school, but she said that she thought I should study dreams if I was going to go. I needed to follow the signs to decode the dream. How? The only thing that I could positively identify was the reservoirs. Anne and John couldn't remember which place I was talking about, and they were the only people that I was acquainted with who had been there besides me.

"What happens once I find that place, anyway?" I asked Paula as I pored over a map of Connecticut.

"You go there," Paula answered.

"Then what?" I said. "This is stupid! My life is here! The only thing that dream can mean is that I should move to Connecticut. All books allude to that. There must be something else to it."

"Like what?" Paula asked. "We've determined that it's not just a pointless dream. Every dream expert in the world, and your own grandma, says that you shouldn't ignore it. They say that it's special."

"I wish my grandma was still alive," I groaned. "She seemed to know all about dreams. She just said to follow the signs."

"What about your mom? What about your dad? How about your sister?" Paula asked. "Maybe you all have destiny dreams, but no one ever mentions them."

"No." I scoffed. "My grandma was the only one that would even notice a dream. The rest aren't that deep." I thought for a moment and got an idea. "I know who to ask," I said.

Paula chased me as I walked out the door. "The least you could do is tell me what you're thinking."

I opened my car door. "Cassie!"

"Who?" Paula asked.

"My twin!" I exclaimed.

I jumped into my Beretta and went to find my sister, Cassie. I hoped she had destiny dreams too.

The Destiny Dream
Part XXXI

"Having a second chance makes you want to work even harder."

-Tia Mowry

My twin and I had a difficult relationship, to say the least. It had never been easy, and the idea that we'd both coincidentally been named Cassandra had never helped. She was bitter about everything that apparently I had stolen from her, including her name. It had been years since I'd spoken with her, so I knew that it wouldn't be easy to start a conversation with Cassie. Cassie had never been able to accept our awkward existence, so she would not be happy to see me, and that was absolute. Unfortunately, she was the only one that I thought might truly understand what I was going through with my dream. I thought that maybe, being my twin, she had dreams too.

I pulled into the parking lot next to her garage. Cassie had started working there right after I'd married Walter. She'd purchased it about three years later.

I didn't want to fight with Cassie. I understood that she had anger and that all I ever did was remind her of it. I knew I was being selfish by approaching her, but I was hoping that she could give me some insight on what my dream meant. That dream was driving me crazy.

"Hi!" an older gentleman in blue coveralls behind the counter said. He looked up at me, and his face suddenly froze. "Can I help you?"

"Hi," I replied. "Is Cassie around?"

The door from the garage opened, and Cassie walked in. She stopped dead in her tracks. The old gentleman immediately left the room and Cassie walked behind the counter, wiping her hands on a standard issue shop rag as she walked. She hadn't changed a bit and now she was a business owner. She was wearing a pair of pink coveralls that reminded me of Pinky Tuscadero in "Happy Days". She was the most successful tomboy I knew.

"What can I do for you, sis?" she snarked.

"I'm fine, and you?" I sniped.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped.

"I came to talk to you," I snapped back.

"I'm busy," she said.

"I know you hate me. But, why?" I asked.

"Why?" she yelled. "You have to be the most self-centered bitch in the world. I'm glad I wasn't raised with you. I wouldn't want to turn out like one of you people."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked.

"You don't even know?" she asked. "You got so caught up in your rich husband's life that no one's heard from you for years."

"You mean the two years that I was so severely depressed that all I did was sleep and eat pudding?" I asked.

"Depressed?" she asked. "I thought you wrote me off."

"I didn't talk to anyone except shrinks," I said. "By the time I rejoined the human race, you hated me."

"You mean, you have no idea what happened to Zach?" she asked.

I stared at her. I hadn't talked to Zach since my wedding day. "No."

"Sit," Cassie ordered. "You didn't do anything for two years?"

"My marriage hasn't exactly been a barrel of laughs," I commented. "What happened to Zach?"

"He went nuts," she said. "Did you realize how he felt about you?"

"What?" I asked.

"Zach was only attracted to me, because I reminded him of you. At your wedding he tried to talk your husband into switching," Cassie replied. "Zach and I didn't last very long after that. Then, he started drinking, and doing drugs. He's been in and out of rehab centers a lot. He couldn't let you go."

I couldn't believe that Zach was that hung up on me. "I had no idea."

"I know I shouldn't be angry with you, but I was so hurt," Cassie said as she wiped a tear from her eye. "It still burns, but I'm doing fine. I've got this place, and a good life."

"Do you have a boyfriend or a husband?" I asked.

"Not exactly. Brett—you remember him—he and I hang out a lot," she said.

"Brett!" I exclaimed. "How is he?"

"He's good," she answered. "He bought the seafood restaurant out by the lake."

"Nice," I said. "Glad to hear he's doing well."

"All right, what's up?" Cassie snapped. "Spill, so we can get this over with and I can get back to work."

"Never mind, we have more important things to discuss," I said, changing my mind about asking her about dreams. "Did Zach tell you he was in love with me?"

"He didn't exactly tell me," Cassie said. "It doesn't take a brain surgeon to see that he only dated me, because I look like you. He would never admit it, but I knew."

"So, you dumped him," I said. "And then he started drinking, or did he start drinking before you broke up with him?"

"What difference does it make?" she asked. "After."

"I have to leave before I say something I'll regret," I said.

"Wait," she sobbed. "No one else could possibly understand."

"What is it?"

At that moment a song began to play on the radio sitting next to Cassie. The second she heard the song start to play, she hit the power button on the stereo so hard that it knocked the whole thing onto the floor. She didn't try to retrieve it. I reacted that way to "Father Figure" too.

"I hate that song too," I commented.

"It's a long story," she murmured.

"I've got time." I watched her. I looked at her face. I knew the expression. "Oh my God! It's because of a dream!"

"How did you know that?" Cassie asked.

"I have dream issues of my own. Maybe we can help each other."

Cassie, I found out, had been haunted by a dream for years, just like me. She'd started having her dream as a little girl. When she'd met Zach, it all fell into place. Zach was the guy in her dream. "Father Figure" just made her think of Zach for some reason.

"After your wedding, I didn't know what to think. When he asked Walter about switching girls, I couldn't get over it. I was convinced that he loved you," she explained. "I had to get away and think. I went to Europe for while. That's where I ran into this psychic who told me crazy stuff about destiny dreams and family blood lines. It was weird," she continued. "My mom is a big believer in destiny, and when I told her what I thought was going on with Zach, she was convinced that I was having your destiny dream. From that moment on, I was certain that Zach belonged with you."

"You went to a psychic?" I asked.

"No," she replied. "She came up to me on the street and started telling me all this stuff. She knew about Zach and you. I don't know how to explain it. She didn't even want money."

"Did the psychic say that Zach belonged with me, or did your mom?" I asked.

"My mom said that Zach belonged with you," she replied.

I shook my head. "Pardon me, but you're an idiot. You had a destiny dream, it came true, and you screwed it all up. You realize your mom just never liked Zach."

"I know," Cassie replied. "But she wouldn't lie."

"I've known Zach a long time, and I can tell you that Zach loves you, you moron," I scolded her. "You should have knocked my door down and forced me to talk to you. I could have solved this years ago. If I've learned one thing in life, it's never to listen to your mother. Zach and I are friends. He had a sparkle in his eye that I never saw before the night you met."

"What can I do?" Cassie asked. "It's too late now."

"Zach belongs with you," I snapped. "Listen to me. I know him. He never did anything stupid because of me. He went off the rails, because he lost you. He wasn't with you because of me. He loves you. I never saw him settle down with one woman and not have a girl on the side, until he met you."

"So my dream had nothing to do with you?" she asked.

"I have my own destiny dream that's making me crazy," I replied. "Your destiny dream came true. This is all part of your destiny."

"He must hate me!" Cassie cried.

"Zach's not like that," I insisted. "Go to him and talk to him. One of our dreams should come true."

"I wish I could go to him, but he's in Florida," she sobbed. "I can't just take off to Florida."

"Why not?" I asked. "Do you want to be miserable for the rest of your life?"

"I have responsibilities," Cassie replied. "And all my money is tied up in my business."

I walked across the room, picked up the phone, and dialed an old familiar number. "Dr. Max? Hi, it's me," I said. "I need a favor."

"What do you need?" Dr. Max asked.

"I need a ride to Fort Lauderdale. Do you know where Leon is? It's a family thing."

"I can have him there in two hours," Dr. Max replied.

"Two hours? Great," I said. "Could you get him to pick me up in Rochester at the airport by the lake?"

"I shouldn't ask?" Dr. Max asked.

"Let's call it classified," I replied.

"I guess I owe you that," he replied.

"Thanks. I'll explain later," I said. I hung up the phone and turned to Cassie. "Our plane will pick us up at the airport in two hours."

"Who did you call?" she asked.

I smiled at her. "The CIA."

The Destiny Dream
Part XXXII

"I would never wish my upbringing on anyone... but I wouldn't take it back for the world."

-Mary-Kate Olsen

Two hours later, we'd made arrangements and Cassie and I were at the airport in Rochester, Indiana. Exactly two hours from my phone call to Dr. Max, I saw a familiar Lear jet come in for a landing. I was actually happy to see Leon.

As we approached the plane, the hatch dropped open, unfolding a set of stairs for us to climb. Leon's face popped out of the door.

"Hey kiddo!" he yelled to me. I could tell by his expression that no one had ever told him about Cassie. "Dear God, there's two of you?"

"Can we get into the plane?" I asked, pushing him aside.

I could see as Cassie looked around that she didn't know what to think. Leon pulled the hatch shut and joined us. He sat down with Cassie and me.

"Leon, this is my sister, Cassie. Cassie—Leon," I said. "Well Sparky, are you just going to sit there gaping at us?"

"You never cease to amaze me kiddo," he said. "I can't believe you're twins. Does Dr. Max know about this?"

"Probably, he knows everything else," I replied.

Leon shook his head and started to move toward the cockpit. "Man, the world just ain't ready for two of you."

Leon ascended to cruising altitude and came back to check on us. "So ladies, what's in Fort Lauderdale?"

"It's a long story." I replied.

"Florida is at least three hours," he said. "Tell me everything."

Cassie and I babbled on like a couple of school girls, until finally, Leon could follow.

"So, I'm taking you to Florida, so you can straighten all this shit out," he said to Cassie.

"Yes," she answered.

"Are you going to tell this Zach guy that all of this happened because of a gypsy psychic in Budapest?" Leon asked Cassie.

"I think he deserves to know the truth," Cassie replied.

"I think you're right," Leon said. He turned to me. "Dr. Max was glad you called. He's been looking for you."

"Why?" I asked.

"Have you watched the news today?" he asked.

"No," I answered.

"Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait today," he said. "It's time for us to go back to work."

"That's Iraq," I said. "That's not our area."

"Iraq is dangerously close to Soviet property," Leon explained. "That's right in Dr. Max's specialty area."

"What is all of this about?" Cassie butted in. "What do you do?"

"I'm a translator for a CIA negotiator," I told her. "He talks and I translate. That's all. It's boring most of the time."

"Are you a spy?" Cassie asked.

"Of course not," I retorted. "It's meetings and conference calls. It's just business, and I just translate."

"Except when you told them to tear down the Berlin Wall," Leon commented.

"What?" Cassie asked.

Leon laughed. "I swear, with God as my witness, she told Gorbachev's aide to tear down the Berlin Wall. She just blurted it out."

"Are you enjoying this?" I asked him.

"Yeah," he said, grinning. "But you can't stay in Fort Lauderdale. You have to go to work with me."

"I don't have my passport," I moaned.

"Going to Washington." he replied.

"Doesn't your husband worry?" Cassie asked.

"Like I said earlier, my marriage isn't exactly a barrel of laughs," I commented.

Leon rose to go back to the cockpit. "By the way, did you ever take a look at the Russian books that Dr. Max gave you months ago?"

"Yes, why?" I asked.

"He was wondering if you'd learned any of it," he replied.

"That alphabet is a bitch," I commented. "Once I figured that out, it was a piece of cake, why?"

"This involves the Muslim states. Kazakhstan and all of those. They speak that Muslim-Arabic stuff and Russian," Leon told me. "You'll need to know some Russian."

"You speak Russian?" Cassie asked.

"Yeah," I replied.

"How many languages do you speak?" she asked.

"Three for now," I said. "More if necessary."

"I had no idea," Cassie said.

"Coming into Fort Lauderdale!" Leon called on the intercom a short time later.

Cassie sighed. "Wow, this is it."

"It was meant to be," I said.

"I should have called. I don't know what to say. You have to come with me. He must hate me," she rambled.

"You'll do fine," I assured her. "Zach is going to be so happy; he won't care. He'll be glad that you came to your senses."

She smiled at me. "Thank you. I'm sorry I called you self centered. Oh, God, what if he has a girlfriend or a wife?"

"It's okay, I talk to him once in a while. If he was married, he would have told me," I said. "Go, solve your dream. I just wish I knew what my own destiny dream was about."

"From what you told me, I'd have to say you should go to Connecticut," she said.

"Maybe," I said. "I wish I knew more."

"Go ask Hilda," she said.

"Who is Hilda?" I asked.

"The gypsy. She's in Budapest," Cassie said.

"I'll think about it," I replied. "Seems like a long way to go to see a gypsy psychic."

"It might be worth it," she said. "Besides, you have a ride."

"We're here!" Leon announced. Then he opened the hatch and let the stairs fold out.

"Destiny awaits you," I said.

"Are you sure you can't come with me?" Cassie asked.

"I would love to, but I guess I have to go to work," I replied.

Cassie smiled. "I understand, but when you get a chance, talk with Hilda. She's about 112 years old, four feet tall, and a classic gypsy. Go to Castle Hill in Budapest, Hungary. She'll find you by the giant cross. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear it's true."

"I'll think about it," I promised her. "Now, go and be happy."

She gave me a big hug at the door. "What about you?"

"I have to go to Washington and help a bunch of eggheads figure out how to save the world from Saddam Hussein."

"And we're late," Leon butted in.

"Good bye, sis," I said smiling.

"Good bye. I'll never forget this," she replied.

The Destiny Dream
Part XXXIII

"If I could be granted a wish, I'd shine in your eye like a jewel."

-Bette Midler

When I arrived at Dulles Airport, there was a military Humvee waiting for me. The driver was a proper soldier; a Marine. He drove me to the Watergate Hotel and personally showed me to my room. Leon had to take time to shut down the jet before he could head into town, so I was alone. The soldier put my bag on the bed, handed me the key, and said, "We need to go to the conference room. Dr. Garrity is waiting for you."

The conference room was enormous. It was filled with intelligentsia and their translators. Dr. Max grabbed me the second I walked in the door. Everyone there looked as though they hadn't slept in days and they were mostly obviously Soviets. I could tell by their uniforms. They were sucking down coffee like it was water. It was going to be a long session.

It was difficult to translate, because everyone talked at the same time and in several languages. It took a long time and a lot of yelling to bring enough order to the room for a real discussion. There were representatives from Romania, Bulgaria, Greece, Italy, Albania, Hungary, Russia, and several Soviet Republics that were way too close to Iraq and Saddam Hussein.

I tried not to think while I translated, because I didn't want to know what was happening. It was scary, and the Soviets were talking about the end of the world. They even brought up Nostradamus, the ancient prophet, at one point.

After 16 hours of yelling, screaming, and haggling, they gave up. They decided at 6:00 a.m. that they had two choices—war or wait. We all went to our rooms to sleep. It seemed like a waste of 16 hours to me. Thank God I was only a translator.

I woke late in the afternoon. I had a message from Dr. Max that we would leave around 10:00 p.m that night. Given that, I got Leon's room number, called him, and asked him if he would like to go out and poke around Washington while we waited. I was finally getting over the past and thought that maybe Leon and I could be friends.

Leon met me in front of the building. We grabbed a cab and went downtown to check out the brand new Hard Rock Café, so I could buy a T-shirt. We walked around and rode the elevators in the Post Office Mall. On the second level, I spotted a tiny stand with a fortune teller. I couldn't resist. I dragged Leon with me.

Her name was Gwen. She had long dark hair, she was dressed like a gypsy, and she had Tarot Cards. She allowed me to join her at a little table. She laid out some cards and studied them.

"I see you've had an unhappy marriage," she said. "When are you leaving?"

"What makes you think I'm leaving?" I asked.

"It's inevitable," Gwen answered. "You married the wrong man."

I stared at her.

"The man you seek is far from your home," she said. "You will find him."

"When?" I asked. I had chills.

"When you decide to start looking," she replied.

"Where?" I asked.

"That I don't know," Gwen said. And that was all she knew.

"You want to talk?" Leon asked me, once we'd left the mall.

"That was weird for me," I said. "I've heard all of that bullshit before."

"Are you leaving your husband?" Leon asked.

"I've thought about it," I said. "I have this dream all the time. I'm starting to believe it's my destiny. Crazy huh?"

"Maybe," he replied. "How often is all the time?"

"I've been having it for years," I explained. "It takes place in Connecticut. Many people think I belong in Connecticut, searching for the guy in my dream."

"What guy?" Leon asked.

"In the dream, I'm dancing with this guy. I can't see his face, but I know it's not Walter," I told him.

"Wow," he said. "What makes you think it could be significant instead of just something that got stuck in your head?"

"'Father Figure'. The George Michael song. It's playing while I'm dancing with the guy."

"Yeah, so?" he asked.

"It came out years after I started to hear it in my dream," I said.

"Wow," he said. "I'd probably believe it too."

"My life is odd," I said. "It's nothing like I thought it would be."

"It never is," Leon replied. "I'm glad you don't hate me anymore. I never told you, but I always thought you were too good for Stewart. He's an asshole."

"You two seemed so close," I commented. "Why did you hang around him if you didn't like him?"

"Old Orders are a ruthless bunch of religious fanatics," he explained. "When a man decides not to join the church, he loses his friends and family. Stewart was one of the few people I knew that didn't shun me."

"I never thought of that," I said. "So, how do you get away for these jaunts? You must have someone to answer to. A wife? Kids?"

Leon sighed. "I was almost married once. Melanie. She was the love of my life. She wasn't Old Order. She loved planes as much as I do. We were going to move to Hollywood. I was going to be a stunt pilot, and she was going to work in special effects."

"It sounds great," I said.

"Yeah," he said. "The night before our wedding..." He stopped and rubbed his eyes.

"You don't have to talk about it," I told him.

He looked up at me and smiled. "Yes. I do. Anyway, we were getting married at her parents' house on Lake Wawasee. She and the bridal party stayed there the night before, and I stayed at our apartment with the guys." He paused to wipe his eyes again. "There was a fire. She got everyone else out of the house safely, but she didn't make it."

"I'm sorry," I muttered.

"It was a long time ago," he said. "I was a student at the time. I was lost."

"Dr. Max?" I asked.

"Yeah," he smiled. "He hired me to haul him around, right out of Western Civ Class. He got the CIA to buy me a jet. He gave me a reason to get out of bed in the morning."

"And after all these years, you still have no personal life?" I asked.

"Sure I do," he said. "I just have problems with commitment. I love my job and traveling. I would never give it up."

"The way the world is going, you'll never be out of work," I said.

He smiled at me and checked his watch. "Speaking of work, we should get going."

It was early morning when I got home. When I arrived at the house, Walter was getting ready for work. He grabbed his keys as I walked in and walked toward me and the door.

"Did you have a good trip?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered.

"Good," he replied. He gave me a peck on the cheek. "I'll see you later. I'm off to work. Bye."

I didn't know how he knew I was away, or if he'd guessed. It didn't seem to concern him one bit. Maybe he'd never cared if I was home.

Cassie called a week later. She and Zach had gotten married in Daytona Beach. She decided to sell her business and buy a garage in Fort Lauderdale, where Zach had his restaurant. She never had her destiny dream again. She didn't have to. Cassie's destiny dream had finally come to pass.

The Destiny Dream
Part XXXIV

"Men should be like Kleenex, soft, strong and disposable."

-Cher

Day one period one of my first term in college was Dr. Max's Western Civilization class. I learned about European History from a master. I'd come to idolize Dr. Max after working with him for a few years. The only thing more exciting than listening to his stories, was living the stories with him. The other students had no idea where Dr. Max had learned the discussion material that wasn't in the textbook. If they knew, they would faint. They wouldn't believe Dr. Max's exploits anyway, because the tales sounded ridiculous.

I started working on the school newspaper. We had a small staff, so everyone was an editor. I was the features editor and wrote a "get to know you" column. I interviewed what our school called international students who came from all over the world. We chatted about their lives in their home countries, so that the rest of us could learn more about them. I learned a lot about other countries, and got to hang out with some pretty interesting people.

I distinctly remember one evening that I was at the local bar, where me and my friends went to get nachos and play Tetris and Fussball, with a young woman from England. We chatted with my friends, and she told one of the guys that he should knock her up sometime. My buddy had no idea that in England it meant to come by and visit and knock on the door. We all had a good laugh at his expense, and I had something to tease him about for the rest of our lives.

The kids at school knew I was older, but they liked me anyway. I hadn't had a childhood when I should have, so I decided that it was time. I had a great time at school, and if I was reliving my childhood, as my husband said, I was doing a great job of it.

I loved all of my classes and loved school in general. I remembered high school. I had a miserable time there. I was going to school on my terms, and it was so much better that way.

I worked at the store when I wasn't busy with Dr. Max and the Kuwait mess. I helped him with lots of conference calls and a few meetings in New York and Washington. It wasn't exactly globetrotting, but it was intense, with constant talk of war breaking out in the Middle East.

Leon and I became friends, which was a pleasant surprise. We'd become like brother and sister since the August trip to Washington. I spent a lot of my spare time with him, and I'd learned to appreciate the dark mysterious loner that no one else understood. Leon and I have forever had the perfect relationship. We never judge each other, we are always honest with each other, and we are always there for each other. He also taught me how to fly a plane.

Jake came back to my life after a few weeks of alienation over the declaration of love. He came back as my friend where he belonged. We talked about the incident until we both felt more comfortable and then we started to go everywhere together again. The whole town started to gossip again, assuming we were having an affair again. Lauren, irregardless of what I said, kept telling me that Jake and I were the perfect couple. Fortunately, Leon and I never went out while we were in town, so no one knew that we were acquainted. I would have been even more of a slut in the rumor mill if the town had heard about that.

Walter wasn't around much at all. He was gone more than normal that harvest season. I'd grown accustomed to the harvest schedule over the years. It started in late September, and it continued into November. Most of the time it was over by Thanksgiving. Then Walter would go back to spending all of his time at the fire station. Walter breezed through when I was at home once a week or so. He would chat a bit with me, and then go on his way to wherever he was going at that time. He'd heard the rumors about Jake and me, but didn't believe a word of it. Maybe he trusted me, but it was most likely indifference. I resented the indifference more every day. I didn't want my husband to think that I was cheating on him, but a little jealousy would have made me feel important to him.

My marriage quit qualifying as something that I had time to dwell on. Honestly, my indifference was getting to be as bad as Walter's. I went from feeling ugly and undesirable to not caring what he thought. I dressed and groomed for me and no one else. I knew that things were going downhill, but it was hard to stop at that point, because neither one of us seemed to care.

The day before Thanksgiving Break, Dr. Max made me an interesting offer. He was taking a group of students to Russia for three weeks of travel in January. They called it Winter Term. There were 20 students and 10 graduate students from LaVergne University in Pasadena, California. There were three professors going on the trip, but they needed one more adult to chaperone the group. He said that they would pay my way and give me a history class worth of credits if I went along. Three weeks in Eastern Europe sounded great to me.

The first time, after speaking with Dr. Max, that I saw Walter was Thanksgiving Dinner. We were at Grandma Miriam's house for the yearly family gathering. I hoped we would have a chance to talk before we went to Miriam's, but Walter came home just in time to shower and change before running to his grandmother's house. It was a short drive, so I had no chance to bring it up before we got to the dinner.

I didn't quite know how to tell Walter that I was going to Europe for three weeks. Walter would barely notice my being away, but I had a hunch that he wouldn't like it one little bit. I didn't think he had the right to an opinion, but for some reason, I still felt that I owed him some explanation.

Thanksgiving Dinner was a typical family gathering. I did a lot of listening to everyone else. Many times I had learned exactly what Walter had been doing with his life by listening in at family gatherings. There was something different in the air that Thanksgiving Day. I snapped the very second that my husband started to talk about work at the family business. He hadn't even told me that he'd gone to work for them. I thought he was still an auto mechanic.

"When did you start working for them?" I blurted out at the dinner table.

"Two months ago," he replied. "I'm sure I told you about it."

Every eye in that house was trained on me.

"How can you not know?" Miriam asked me. "You live with him. I would think such a thing might come up over the dinner table."

"You might notice if you were home once in a while," Walter said to me. He turned to the others. "She's very busy with school. I barely see her anymore."

"I knew no good could come of this college business," Walter's mother commented.

"My career is my family," Walter's cousin, Adelaide added.

"A woman's place is at her husband's side," his Aunt Clara chimed in.

I felt like I'd stepped into the "Twilight Zone". I had spent five and a half years being ignored, neglected, and taken for granted, used, abused, and kept in my place. After I put up with all of that without taking it to his family and involving them, without making him look bad in front of them, without airing our dirty laundry, he openly blamed me in the middle of Thanksgiving Dinner. I looked around the table searching for the face of someone who wasn't judging me to be an uncaring, selfish woman.

After a couple of minutes, Miriam spoke. "It seems to me that if a man completely ignores and alienates his own wife, eventually she'll find a life of her own." She smiled at me, and then turned to Walter. "She's not a pair of old shoes that you can keep in the closet, only to get them out and wear them on special occasions. She's not your housemaid, or your accountant, or your gardener, or your cook. She's your wife. She has feelings, thoughts, needs, and desires. I've watched this girl grow into a woman that I admire, and you have always treated her badly. She's the reason that I still give you money. You should understand that." She looked around the table at several shocked expressions. "Quit staring at me and eat your turkey!"

Miriam winked at me and went back to eating her meal. She knew. Miriam had never said one word to me that alluded she knew how he treated me, but apparently she'd been the only one who'd seen what I was living with. Miriam was the person who was on my side. I was happy she was on my side, and not against me, since she was clearly in charge of the family.

After having one of the quietest family meals ever, I caught up with Miriam in the kitchen. She had a germ phobia, so she was scrubbing her gold plated silverware before putting it into the dishwasher. She had on thick rubber gloves so the scalding hot water didn't burn her hands. She saw me enter the kitchen out of the corner of her eye, but she didn't let on that she knew I was there.

"Would you like me to do that?" I asked her. "I know how you hate scrubbing your own dishes."

She stopped, stood up, and looked me in the eye. "People think I'm stupid and shallow. You've never treated me that way."

"You're not stupid, Miriam," I moaned. "You're one of the smartest women I know. You've designed all of your houses, you've kept this bizarre family together and operational for decades, and you know more about the relationships between germs and metallurgy than anyone. You're just nuts, that's all."

She smiled. "You're the only person in the world that I allow to call me nuts. To everyone else, I am eccentric."

"So you knew," I said.

"I know all," she replied. "I wish I could ignore it like my sister and the rest of my family does. Walter has always been a selfish child. He needs a reality check."

"I know," I admitted.

"Good," Miriam said. "You have so much going for you. Now you're going to school on top of your many adventures. I'm proud of you. I envy your strength."

"Why would you envy me?" I asked.

"Follow me." She motioned me toward the back of the house where no one but her husband and cleaning staff were allowed. Miriam led me down the hallway past all the bedrooms—I counted six of them. At the end of the hall was a locked door. She unlocked the door. "Come on, it's okay."

When I went inside I was amazed. It was a personal office she'd made for herself. It was incredible. It was filled with baroque French furniture and book cases with books that not only covered interior design and phobias, but physics and political science. There was an antique curio cabinet filled with antique glassware with one piece that didn't fit in. In the middle of all of the Hummels and Fentonware was a crystal pineapple as big as a walnut, in a crystal basket. I'd never seen anything like it.

She sat down in the custom designed chair behind the desk after closing the door, and motioned for me to sit in the beautiful Queen Anne style chair opposite her. Behind her on the wall there was a poster—not a work of art—which had Snoopy on it and read "Smile, make people wonder what you've been up to".

"Nice poster," I commented.

"This is my room," she said firmly. "No one comes in here without this key. To come in here is to know me. I spend a lot of time in this room."

I looked at the bookshelves. "You're absolutely fascinating."

"A girl can only study Haute Cuisine and Baptist doctrine for so long before she becomes incredibly bored," she said. "Sometimes a girl wants to figure out her own untainted theories about the meaning of life."

I giggled. "So, you aren't the overbearing anti feminist, living in 'Leave it to Beaver' land."

"No," she said. "I'm supposed to be demure and supportive. Oops! I failed. My depression isn't like yours was. I have money, so I get to be eccentric. But, I missed out on life." She leaned forward and took my hand across the desk. She looked me straight in the eye. "Don't miss out on life. Don't let him ruin you."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Oh, come on..." she began. "I know all. I went to high school with Max. I was a young parent and he was middle aged before he had kids. We're actually about the same age, and we're still close friends. He tells me you do excellent work."

"You know Dr. Max?" I gasped. "And he told you I work for him?"

"He told me all about it. He also told me that you're going to Europe for three weeks in January."

"He's paying my way—well the college is," I said.

"I know," she replied. "When are you going to tell my grandson?"

"I don't know," I said. "He won't like it."

She got up and walked to the curio cabinet. She took out the pineapple statue. "It's too late for me, but you stick to your guns. Let him have his fit. If you have to, walk away."

"Are you telling me to leave him?" I asked.

"No!" she exclaimed. "But when he kicks you out, keep walking and don't look back. Don't settle." She smiled and handed me the pineapple. It was heavy in my hand.

"It's beautiful," I said. "It's heavy."

"I believe in safety nets," she said. "I've had that for decades. It's one of a kind. When Walter kicks you out for wanting to live a full life, take it with you. It's the one thing he won't fight you for in the divorce, because it's a trinket to him. He has no idea. You'll never have to put up with any man again. You sell that, and you'll be able to afford any man you want. That pineapple isn't crystal. It's a blue-white diamond."

"Is this for me, or for Walter?" I asked.

"Take the pineapple," she said. "It's for you. I've never lied to you. Ask your Dr. Max, and he'll tell you how fond I am of you."

I took the pineapple. Miriam was full of surprises.

The Destiny Dream
Part XXXV

"I am the result of the good choices I've made and the bad choices."

-Madonna Ciccone

I was exhausted after Thanksgiving Dinner at Miriam's house. The Green Bay Packers lost the Thanksgiving Football Game to the Detroit Lions like they always did during those years, when they played the Thanksgiving game, and Walter took off to see his buddies at the fire station. I decided to relax and try to forget the anniversary of my grandmother's death, despite the fact that I was a Packers fan because of her, and laid down on the sofa with Bop and went to sleep. As the dream happened again, I realized that there was now a porthole for a window where I was dancing in my dream, and the man was blonde. I woke up with a start. The last time a new clue had come was when I'd first heard "Father Figure" and driven the truck off the road over it. I didn't want to ignore the dream anymore, but what did a porthole for a window mean? Was I on a ship? I had to find out.

Once I was fully awake, I decided that it was time that Walter and I talk about my upcoming trip behind the Iron Curtain. I had to talk to him face to face. That night I didn't care what he was up to. It was all about me. I grabbed my keys and took off into the night in my car. A few minutes later, I walked into the fire station where women were only allowed twice a year; once for a chili dinner and the other to have a charity sale.

Walter almost ran to me, frantic to get me out of his clubhouse. "Princess! What are you doing here?"

I went into the office with him, as he insisted, and he shut the door. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Why, I'm not sure, but at that point, I hated him for being nice to me. I just wanted to run away screaming and never come back.

"The college asked me to go on a trip with a group of students as a chaperone," I said. "I'm going to Eastern Europe for three weeks in January. We leave on New Year's Eve. They're paying my way and giving me three history credits for it."

"That's a long trip," he said calmly. "Where exactly will you be going?"

"Germany, Czechoslovakia, Poland, and The Soviet Union," I said.

"Wow. You'll be a translator too?" he asked.

"I think that's why they asked me," I replied.

"Dr. Max is leading the group?" he asked.

"Yes, why?"

"Will he be dragging you into any CIA business?" he asked.

"No, it's for the school," I answered. "Are you mad?"

"No," he replied. "I can manage for a few weeks. Have fun." He kissed my cheek.

I couldn't believe it. He wasn't angry. He walked me to the door, smiled at me, gave me a little peck of a kiss, and sent me on my way. Deep inside, I was pretty sure the affection was all show for the benefit of his firemen buddies. I resented him for that as well.

That Friday night, Jake and I sat at our usual watering hole eating nachos at the bar. After we caught up by discussing our weeks activities, I told him about the upcoming Russia trip.

After I told him all about the trip, Jake said, "What else is up? I can tell something is on your mind."

"You know me well," I said. "I need your advice, and I need a favor."

"Sure, anything you need. You know that."

"I don't think I'll be going home when I come back from the trip," I said. "I think it's time for me to get a divorce. Walter and I have nothing left to save. The three weeks of me being gone will help him transition."

"I am terribly sorry to hear that. I don't wish divorce on anyone, but I've seen your life. Helping him transition isn't a bad idea," he said. "How can I help you?"

"I'll need a lawyer," I told him. "Will you help me?"

"I'm probably too close to the case, but yes," he replied. "How big of a battle do you anticipate?"

"None," I said. "I don't want anything but a few personal items. There won't be anything to fight about."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "That's a lot to give up."

"I'm sure," I insisted. "I just want to get on with my life."

"Okay, you're the boss," Jake replied. "Let me know when you want to file, and I'll draw up the papers. Now, can we forget the seriousness for a while, and enjoy the evening with our friends?"

"Sure," I said. "There's just one more thing. The favor."

"I thought representing you was the favor."

"I need you to keep something for me," I explained to him. "I need you not to ask any questions about it."

"Sure," Jake said. "No problem. What the big secret?"

"I know it sounds ridiculous, but Miriam gave me something," I told him. "It's a pineapple and she specifically gave it to me so I would be able to afford a divorce."

"A pineapple?" he asked.

"It's Grandma Miriam. Don't ask."

Christmas came and went without anything interesting happening. I finished my first term of college, and made the dean's list with all A's. Soon, it was time for my greatest adventure. It was New Year's Eve when I embarked on the trip that truly changed my life. There are very few events that stick with you for a lifetime. I felt it from the beginning of the trip. I would be different when I returned. There were 20 students from Manchester College. They were all traditional, undergraduate students. They ranged in age from 18 to 21. On our connection in Pittsburgh, ten graduate students, each over age 30, and their professor from LaVergne University joined us. Then, we flew to Frankfurt, West Germany.

It was a great time to travel. Customs was easy. There were no terrorism warnings or precautions. The students thought that the process took forever, but by today's standards, it took no time at all.

We arrived a day late, due to passport issues in the states, so we hopped on the subway at the airport in Frankfurt and went downtown to Hotel Bahn, or the Train Hotel, for a nap and a shower. The hotel was a small building. It appeared to be from the World War II era. It had 16 rooms on its six floors. The building was tiny and sandwiched between two high rises. It was small and cozy with one elevator that held four people at a time if we all sucked in our guts. There was a tiny lobby with comfortable seating and a television, and the hotel was in the process of renovating the sixth, or top, floor. The staff worked to make us all feel welcome and right at home.

We napped and in the morning, changed, and then we boarded a bus to Berlin. I remembered being in Berlin with Dr. Max. I wondered what the city was like without the wall. The bus ride was intense. European civilization is old. As a result, streets and roads are narrow and so are the cars that drive on them. The bus was awkward and had trouble navigating the congested areas. Roads in America are wide and accommodate many cars. In Europe, traffic lights look the same, but work differently than they do in the states. Taxis are in the cities, but you use taxi stands to catch one, instead of waving one down on the street. The list of differences goes on. Each difference between life in America and life in Europe is subtle, but when you put them all together, it can be overwhelming.

The bus driver announced that we would be taking the world famous Autobahn to Berlin. I'd always wanted to scream down the Autobahn at 100 miles per hour, but when we pulled off of the entrance ramp, we hit a bumper to bumper traffic jam. That was not how the Autobahn was described in America.

We spent the entire day struggling from one traffic jam to another on the Autobahn. We arrived at Hotel Berlin, in downtown West Berlin at sunset. I'd made friends with a couple of the kids who were in my care, despite Dr. Max's obvious disapproval. I felt young, and I didn't care what anyone thought. I had the weight of the world, and an upcoming divorce, on my shoulders, and the kids were helping to get it all off my mind.

After getting settled in my hotel room, I took a group out to investigate nightlife in West Berlin. I had more energy than I knew what to do with. Being one of the chaperones and one of the translators allowed me the luxury of taking the kids out myself, or so I thought. We walked down the Kurfurstendam, the center of activity in Berlin. It didn't look much different to me than it had a few years before, still bright with lights and exciting with activity.

I got my first taste of chaperoning a bunch of kids that night. They were all under 21 years old. In America they were still waiting for their first legal night out at the bars. In Germany, their first legal night out at the bars was that night, because you only had to be 10 years old to drink in Germany. All the kids wanted to do was to find an authentic German pub with authentic German beer.

First, I steered them to a restaurant, because I was starving. I had some delicious pasta, and they ordered a German pizza. The sauce was ketchup, and I've never been quite sure what they use for cheese. Live and learn. Get the Spaetzle.

We looked around at the Bombed Out Church and went shopping in some stores, and then it was time to find German bars and drink German beer. After discovering that a lot of bars in Berlin served Budweiser, we finally found some German beer in bar number five. It was called the New World Pub. The inside was filled with pictures of New York City and the Grand Canyon. It was a long way to go to sit in a bar that was supposed to give an impression of America, but the kids enjoyed their German beer.

After a couple of beers, the kids dragged me to a discotheque, which was something I hadn't heard of since the 1970's in America. All night long we danced to David Hasselhof and Roy Orbison music. It was fabulous how different everything was from being in the states. We didn't head back to the hotel until midnight. I spoke German to people all night long, and I learned a lot about Berlin. It really was an educational trip, both for me and the kids I was guiding through the city.

I'd just fallen into my bed when there was a knock at my door. I reluctantly answered the door. It was Dr. Max. "You need to come with me."

"I just got in," I said, yawning.

"I'm fully aware of that," he said. "Now come on."

"What's going on?" I asked.

"I can't talk to you here," he replied. "You have a young roommate."

"Yes, you can." I yawned again. "You'll be lucky if sleeping beauty hears a bomb go off before mid morning."

"It's a meeting," he said.

"All right," I groaned. "I'll meet you in the lobby in a couple of minutes."

"At least you don't have to fly anywhere," he said.

Ironically, we went to the New World Pub. I got a strange look from the bartender when I walked in. It was only when that bartender put out a closed sign and Peotr joined us that I realized he was Peotr's latest translator. I sat and shook my head. What the odds were on that coincidence, I don't know, but they had to be pretty outrageous.

"Dr. Max, Sandy—this is my new translator, Erich," Peotr announced.

Erich and I both laughed. "We've met," I said.

Peotr shot Dr. Max a look.

"She was out getting some local flavor with the students earlier," Dr. Max explained. "You managed to stumble in here?" he asked me.

"The kids wanted German beer," I said. "Sorry."

"Young lady, there is about to be a war in the Middle East, which isn't that far from here. Germany has terrorist warnings all the time for one thing or another, and especially now, because of Saddam Hussein. Erich in not just a translator, he's intelligence and security. He's guiding our tour of the city tomorrow, because some officials here think we need extra protection." He paused. "What if the students recognize him?" He heaved an angry, heavy sigh at me. "I don't want those kids to think for one second that there's anything dangerous about this trip. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir. I had no idea," I muttered.

Dr. Max shook a finger at me. "No one but you, me, and one other in that group know that we could have problems. We'll have bodyguards as well as translators for the entire trip. You are not to let anyone find out about it."

"Don't they have a right to know if they're in danger?" I asked. "And who else knows?"

"It's none of your business who else is cleared. I've been conducting these tours for 25 years," Dr. Max said. "It's not half as dangerous as it used to be. I've never had a single person come to any harm. There's always danger, but it doesn't have to ruin their trip. Why do you think the college always sends me on this jaunt?"

"You're an expert?" I guessed.

"Yes," he snapped. "As long as I am here, the colleges don't worry. That's why they send me. Let's not ruin that. Is that clear, young lady?"

"I won't do it again," I said.

"Thank you," Dr. Max replied.

The Destiny Dream
Chapter XXXVI

"Just try new things. Don't be afraid. Step out of your comfort zones and soar, all right?"

-Michelle Obama

I didn't know what to think of the whole Iraq-Kuwait thing. From what Peotr and Dr. Max said that night, there would be a land war, and it would be led by the United States. It sounded as though it would also be soon. It was all planned out. It seemed as though every other country in the world, besides, Iraq knew about the plan. The only thing that I didn't find out that night was the date of the attack.

I struggled to get to sleep, finally dosing off at 5:00 a.m. All of a sudden my fun had turned back into my carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. Instead of only worrying about how and exactly when to end my marriage, I was also waiting for a war to start. All I wanted to do was run away from it all. Every time I tried to run away from something, it came after me. The destiny dream was the perfect example of that phenomenon.

When I finally drifted off that night, the dream struck again, with another clue. Everything remained the same, but a new ring on my hand that hadn't been there before. When I saw myself dancing with the mystery guy, I noticed the ring on my right hand. I'd known for some time that I was wearing a wedding ring on my left hand in my dream. The ring on my right hand was different from anything I'd ever seen. It was a band, and it had no protruding setting. It was a shiny bright red band with gilded edges. There were tiny blue pictures on it of birds. It was just one more puzzle piece to the most frustrating puzzle I'd ever encountered.

I was awakened from that version of the dream by my young roommate, who told me to get up because Dr. Max had called and said that it was time to get up. Dr. Max was always interrupting me.

The city tour of Berlin was good. I had a butterfly feeling in my stomach as we drove past the remains of Checkpoint Charlie. It was so much better to me seeing Checkpoint Charlie as a pile of rubble in the street. It had scared the hell out of me when it was functional. I looked at the ditches that were left where the wall had once stood. They seemed to extend forever between buildings in what was now the center of one city. Soon, the city would officially reunite, and history would change again, along with the map.

We barely had enough time in Berlin to absorb what was going on there with the reunification and the rest of the demolition of the wall. Soon, it was time to move along. The world wouldn't wait for anything, not even for us to learn more about one of the more interesting locations on Earth.

From Berlin. we took a bus to Warsaw, Poland and learned about the Holocaust and the burning of that city in WWII. In our spare time, we did some shopping, some drinking, and some gambling at the tiny casinos that dotted most of Europe. We also got to see the video of Madonna's "Justify My Love" that was banned in the USA, because Europeans are far more liberal in many ways than Americans are. My usual group, as I was referring to them at that point continued to try pizza. Polish pizza and German pizza were the same. Once again, try the Kluski.

Following a wonderful visit to Warsaw, we started the next leg of our journey. We boarded a Soviet train bound for Leningrad. We stuffed our luggage into every nook and cranny of our four person sleeper cabin, proud of ourselves for finding room. After that, we hunkered down for what we were told was a very long trip.

Soviet trains came with an attendant, or Dezhernaya. It was the Russian version of a stewardess but on a train. I would soon find out that in the Soviet Union Dezhernayas were also on each floor of the hotels. Dezhernayas made a lot of tea, and they served it in Russian tea glasses. I developed a great love of all things Russian on that trip and the elaborately decorated tea glasses are high on my list of loves, just after nesting dolls and lacquer boxes.

We settled in and soon we were on our way to the Soviet Union. It didn't take long for us to discover what traveling on a Soviet train was like. Within an hour, the first girl returned from the bathroom, horrified. I went to what was supposed to be a bathroom. It was more primitive than an old outhouse. It was truly disgusting, with not much beyond a hole in the floor to go in that emptied out onto the tracks below. So, there we were on a Soviet train with bathrooms so disgusting that no one wanted to use them, and a Dezhernaya constantly brewing tea. It would be a long ride.

The Soviet train was an educational experience for us. There was plenty of tea, but there was no food. Dr. Max had told us to bring snacks. Soon, I knew why. We all did our best to eat, without going to the bathroom. It was a difficult process to continue for any length of time, but I refused to go to what the Soviets called a bathroom.

Probably the biggest problem with the Soviet train was its speed, or lack thereof. That rickety old Soviet train stopped for everything. I asked the Dezhernaya when we would arrive in Leningrad, and she said that it was hard to predict. I eventually gave up on finding anything that would make the trip easier, and I went to sleep as an escape. It was easy to sleep at that point in the trip, because we were heading farther north all the time and the days kept getting shorter.

I had my destiny dream again, and as usual, was jarred from my sleep. That time I woke to the train jerking. It took a moment for me to realize that the train was being lifted up off of the tracks. I started to get out of my bunk, forgetting that I was in the top one, and fell to the floor. I jumped up and looked out the window.

"What the hell is happening?" One of the girls screamed.

The train was being jacked up. We were suspended between giant hunter's orange colored springs. The answer was suddenly clear to me. "We're at the border."

"I don't get it," another girl said.

"The Russians didn't want Hitler coming into their country during World War II, so they narrowed the gauge of the rails. They have to change the undercarriage on the train in order for us to enter the Soviet Union. I guess picking it up is the easiest way to change it."

We all got tossed a little as our car landed back on the tracks and began to move forward. The train came to an abrupt stop again, as they changed undercarriages on each car behind us. I checked my watch. It was 9:00 a.m., but dark outside. We'd been on the train for 18 hours and just crossed the border.

"Do we still have a long way to go?" one of the girls asked.

"I don't know," I replied. "I'm not sure where we are."

"Outside Lviv," a border guard wearing a Soviet military uniform, holding an AK-47 replied from the doorway.

Once my heart recovered from my brief case of shock, the soldiers checked our passports, visas, and luggage so that we could enter the country. They were so bored with their job that they barely looked at anything. The whole inspection lasted less than one minute.

After the guards left, one of the girls asked me, "Where did you learn to speak Russian?"

It was turning into a long trip.

The train finally pulled into Moscow Station in Leningrad a mere 14 hours after our stop at the border. I swore that I would never take a trip that long on a Soviet train again. It had been an exhilarating, but unbelievably frustrating experience, and the first thing all of us did when we got off of that train was go to the bathroom.

Leningrad was our first taste of the Soviet Union. This was the only part of the trip we'd had definitive instructions for.

  1. Do not go out without an assigned Soviet guide.

  2. Bring your own toilet paper.

  3. Don't leave anything out or luggage unlocked.

  4. Make sure your papers are locked in the hotel safe, and that you have a state approved ID card from your hotel before going out.

  5. Make sure you exchange your money at a bank. All other official exchanges are not to be trusted, and exchanging dollars for rubles on the street is illegal.

  6. Don't drink any water unless it's bottled and sealed.

  7. Always be aware of the time. It's dark 20 hours a day January.

  8. Absolutely no electrical adapters will work in Soviet electrical outlets.

  9. The phone system in the Soviet Union is terrible. It can take more than twelve hours to get a line to call the U.S.

Those were the rules. They seemed a bit extreme, but it didn't take long for us to realize that they were good rules. I turned on the water in my room, and it came out rust colored. I was instantly a believer in the rules.

The Destiny Dream
Part XXXVII

"I think your self emerges more clearly over time."

-Meryl Streep

Leningrad was different. I learned that while hanging out in the lounge on my floor with the Dezhernaya. She had more than just tea, which was great. She had snacks and bottled mineral water, so we could brush our teeth. I discovered that the Soviet Union had five TV channels that all showed the same thing and were all sponsored solely by Tass, the national news agency. I found it fascinating.

As I was trying to relax and have some Russian shortbread cookies to go with my Soviet Soap Opera, Dr. Max appeared. "Sandy, can I talk to you for a minute?"

I didn't know which was worse, the children bitching about the lack of options while watching black and white TV, or whatever Dr. Max wanted to discuss.

"Sure," I said.

We went to his room. Professor Stanley Hayden, or Stan, as he preferred to be called, waited for us. Stan was the professor on our trip from LaVergne University, Pasadena. I sat down in the only chair, and Dr. Max closed the door.

"What's up?" I asked.

"We have a problem," Stan said.

"Are you CIA too?" I asked Stan. I looked at Dr. Max. "So he's the one."

"He's not one of us," Dr. Max snapped. "The war is going to start a little sooner than we anticipated."

"Like when?" I asked.

"Probably before we're scheduled to leave for home," Stan answered.

"What does that mean?" I asked. "Are we leaving? I have to tell these kids something if we are."

"Our visas have exit dates on them, so we can't leave early from this part of the trip without going through the Consulate," Dr. Max explained. "That's not a viable option these days. Because we are also scheduled to go to Czechoslovakia, we can't leave for home early at all."

"My group is leaving from Krakow," Stan announced. "That was originally scheduled in our itinerary. That is unless of course this whole damn thing flies while we're here in Russia."

"Here!" I exclaimed. "What happens if it starts while we're here?"

"I have no idea," Dr. Max said. "This has never happened to me."

"Options?" I asked.

"I don't know," Dr. Max said.

"Are we still going to be able to leave the country when we planned?" I asked.

"I don't know," he replied.

"Why does this have anything to do with us?" I asked.

"Because, if we attack Iraq, it's highly likely that the Soviets will become involved diplomatically," Dr. Max said.

"I thought that the Soviet Union was falling apart and that was their focus right now," I said.

"They are a superpower, and as such, they have a vested interest in relationships between oil producing countries and other superpowers," Dr. Max said.

"Are we in danger?" I asked. "Are we in more or less danger if war breaks out?"

"I don't know," he replied.

"What do you know?" I asked.

"I know that everything is about to erupt, but I can't predict the outcome," Dr. Max said.

"Everything, meaning what?" I asked.

"The Pope is coming to open churches here for the first time in 78 years. I'm afraid it will cause a revolution. That may distract the Soviet Government from the war in Iraq," Dr. Max said. "Where that leaves this group, I have no idea."

"So, we could be stuck here because of a war in Iraq, and then be at ground zero for a Russian revolution?" I snapped.

"Could happen," he replied.

I didn't say another word. I got up and walked to the door.

"Are you okay?" Dr. Max asked me.

"Yes," I answered.

"Where are you going?" Stan asked me.

"Well, apparently, the world could come to an end, and there's nothing I can do about it, so I'm going out," I said. "I can't stay locked up in this place with one TV show. I have enough on my mind without this. Please, don't argue with me."

Dr. Max watched me for a moment. "There's a club three doors down to your left as you leave the lobby. Make sure you take your ID card and take your group. Make sure some boys go. It's safer that way. Do you have the hotel number?"

"Yes," I answered.

"I'm sure it's all overreaction," Dr. Max said. "Politicians love to overdramatize things."

"I'm a grown up, Dr. Max," I said. "The crazy thing is that it doesn't scare me as much as it pisses me off. The idea that Saddam Hussein or the Pope may ruin the greatest trip of my life really just pisses me off."

"There are worse things than being stuck in Europe on holiday," Stan offered.

"I don't know about you, but I have things that I need to attend to when I get home," I told him. "One way or another, I'll make sure we get home. I've learned over the years that I can do just about anything."

I collected my group of children and went to the disco down the street. On the way we passed a building with a giant digital thermometer on it. The temperature was -20 Celsius. That's -4 Fahrenheit. Arctic winters were harsh. Suddenly, it started to rain. At that moment, I swear I thought I'd lost my mind. When we were at the disco drinking and dancing I calmed down a little. In the middle of my drunken binge, the DJ played the only Western tune that was played that night. After the night I'd had, I wasn't really surprised to hear "Father Figure".

That damn destiny dream.

From that point on, we went about our sightseeing as if nothing bad was about to happen in the world. The horrible TV programming in black and white, and the general lack of magazines and newspapers available to purchase, made it easy to keep the whole thing from the students. On our only full day in Leningrad, we went to the Aurora WWII Battleship Museum. We stopped at the outdoor market to do some shopping during the daylight hours, which were few. The sun came up at 10:00 a.m. and went down at 1:30 p.m. It was incredible, and it made it impossible to take outdoor pictures, because, it was never fully daylight.

We went to the Hermitage, the Winter Palace turned national museum, most notably associated with the Empress, Catherine II. We saw works of art by the masters and one of a kind pieces of furniture. The ceilings were covered in murals. The walls were painted in the vibrant reds, whites, blues, and golds that Russians seemed to love, with gilded designs intertwined. I'd never seen anything like it. For a few hours, it completely took my mind off of the cold and depressing darkness outside. I wished it could have taken my mind off of the upcoming war.

Russian folks had put up with 78 years of Communism, and then Gorbachev came to power. The Berlin Wall was down, and most of the Eastern Bloc countries were beginning to privatize and reorganize. In the spirit of change, the night of our departure, we went to church. Nearly everyone in Leningrad seemed to be there. The Church of our Savior on Spilled Blood was just finishing renovations, and the Pope was in the area. We made our way inside to where everything sparkled white and gold, and beautiful chandeliers dangled from the tiled ceilings of the domes to witness history. In a largely unpublicized event, the Pope had stopped in all the Baltic Republics and officially opened churches. St. Petersburg was the final stop on his virtually secret multi republic tour. That event, combined with the rest of the activities that were going on in the anti Soviet powder keg, was going to cause an explosion, soon.

Twelve hours later, we were in Moscow, and we were ready to explore another piece of the exotic and unstable Soviet Union.

The Destiny Dream
Part XXXVIII

"Life is very tough. If you don't laugh, it's tough."

-Joan Rivers

We barely stopped long enough at our hotel to drop our bags. We headed straight downtown to take it all in. Our guides took us to the Kremlin, Red Square, St. Basil's Cathedral, and the GUM (Moscow's famous Red Square shopping mall). We saw where Mikhail Gorbachev's office was, where Lenin was entombed, and discovered great places to go shopping. We saw the Palace of Facets, the National Museum, and the enormity of Red Square. It was all overwhelming, and beautifully exotic, like forbidden fruit in a frozen garden.

After exploring all day, and finding some great buys and a Baskin Robbins on Arbat Street, we returned to the hotel, tired but excited at all the things we'd seen, eaten, drank, and bought. We were fascinated with the single item shops that were easily large enough to house department stores, the stands of wares for sale on the streets, and the lack of tourists from the West. Our group stuck out in the crowds.

After our evening meal at the hotel, complete with the unidentified bird that I was pretty sure was squab, we went to the Moscow Circus. We enjoyed the entirety of the show, but it was the famous, dancing brown bears, that mesmerized us with their nearly unsupervised performance of acrobatics and dancing. I'd never seen anything quite like it, and after the show, the bear trainers came out into the lobby with the bears, so we could meet and shake hands with the bears. It was a wonderful experience.

I gathered my group and started to leave for our hotel, but as we approached the exit, I saw three soldiers with the Soviet star and sickle emblem on their full length gray coats, with a man in a suit and coat waiting for us.

We stopped where the men stood between us and the exit. "Can I help you?" I asked.

"We will wait for the rest of the group," The civilian said.

Soon we were gathered.

The man in the suit and coat said, "We are extremely sorry, but we are anticipating some problems in the near future here. To ensure your safety, you will have to return to Poland. Your train leaves at 10:30 a.m. tomorrow. Please be on it. Once again, we do apologize for any inconvenience."

"Are you kicking us out of the country?" I asked.

"We are only concerned with your safety," the man said. "We are very sorry."

I looked at Dr. Max. "Now what? What do you know about this, and don't tell me that you know nothing."

"It's nothing," Dr. Max snapped at me. "There might be a little uprising in Lithuania. Who sent you?" he asked the man in the suit.

"The mayor, sir. I am his assistant. The request does come from the highest authority, however," the man in the suit said. "I have orders to ensure that you are safely out of the country as soon as possible."

The kids gathered in my room that night, full of questions. I answered their questions the best that I could, without revealing anything that was deemed classified. The students were scared about the uprising in Lithuania. They didn't need to know about the impending war in Iraq.

At 10:30 a.m., we boarded a far better than our first Soviet train bound for Poland. On this train each car had a small common area where we could sit and talk or play cards, while watching the frozen landscape roll by outside the windows. It also had a useable bathroom, and the Dezhernaya sold Pepsi as well as serving tea. Finally, a train I could ride in for 32 hours if I had to without being stuck in a tiny sleeper compartment the entire time.

I had so much on my mind that my head ached, between my upcoming divorce, being abruptly sent to Poland, the impending war in Iraq, and the uprising against the Soviet government that had suddenly broken out in Vilnius, Lithuania. The uprising was a direct result of opening the churches a few days before in a republic with a large population of Slavic people who craved freedom. The people of Vilnius felt that it was time for independence and had decided to take control of their little part of the world. Whatever the rest of the world was up to, we were going back to Poland because of it, and that was what mattered to me.

I loved traveling in Europe, but at the point that we were being ejected to avoid a potential revolution, I was ready to go home. I had my destiny dream to figure out, and I didn't want to be trapped in Poland, because of a war in the Persian Gulf or Lithuania. Poland didn't seem like a place that I would want to be during any war. The students were getting restless, and the group that I worked with had many questions that made me uncomfortable to field answers for. Adventure was great, but uncertainty was ruining the adventure. Reality sucks.

One thing that never changed about Soviet trains was that they all stopped at nearly every crossing, village, and cow along the way. We sat around the lounge playing cards for a few hours, and then it started to snow heavily. I looked out the window, and all I could see was white. It didn't concern me at first. I mean, after all, it was Russia in the winter. A couple of hours into the snow, however, the train came to an abrupt stop.

My soda slid off of the table. "What now?" I moaned. I jumped up. "I'll go and find out what's going on."

I met Dr. Max in the hallway. "Don't panic. We've encountered a snow drift."

"What kind of a snow drift stops a train?" I asked.

"A big one," he said.

The train jerked into motion in the opposite direction and accelerated.

"Why are we backing up?" I asked.

"We have to go back and take a different route," Dr. Max told me. "They said the cut off is about 12 miles back."

"Fine," I groaned. "I'll tell the kids."

The train turned onto an alternate route, night came, and it continued to snow. The train continued to stop and go a lot. I gave up and went to bed, because I was sure that I would wake up to the giant orange springs at the border again, and I wanted to get some sleep.

I was almost asleep at 4:00 a.m., when I was thrown from my bed by another sudden stop. I pulled on my shoes and went to look out the window in the common area. We were in a city.

"What's up?" Stan asked, as he and I met Dr. Max in the walkway.

"Jesus!" Dr. Max exclaimed, looking out the windows. "Keep the students in their cabins. I'll be right back."

"What's wrong?" I asked him.

"Don't tell the kids anything," Dr. Max replied. "But we're in Vilnius."

"Oh shit," I mumbled at Stan as Dr. Max went to see the engineer.

It was only a few minutes later when Dr. Max came back.

"What's going on?" I asked him almost whispering.

"I don't believe this one myself," he began. He took a deep breath. "We're in Vilnius, Lithuania, like I thought. No one told the engineer not to come here, so he didn't know any better."

"So, why isn't the train moving?" I asked. "Shouldn't we be moving along? This could become a war."

Dr. Max rubbed his temples. "There's a tank on the tracks in front of us. They're sending another one to push it out of the way."

"Why is there a tank on the tracks?" Stan asked.

"Because, it ceased to function," Dr. Max snapped. "It's a piece of shit Soviet tank, and it just crapped out."

"You're joking, right?" I asked.

Dr. Max rubbed his temples more. "I wish I were."

"How long until another tank comes?" Stan asked.

I heard a shot fired outside the train. We all rushed to the window. There was a light in the street coming from the rescue tank.

"Never mind," Stan muttered.

The shot had been fired by a man in the street. The man was standing in front of the, now non-moving tank in the middle of the road. He was dressed all in black, like a Russian ninja. He was carrying a poorly designed rifle-like homemade gun.

The man was angry, and most likely drunk. He walked in front of the tank, under its gun, and started to yell. He was kicking the tank, and pointing his gun at it with one hand, while waving his other arm as he screamed at that tank. We watched the scene play out in front of us. To this day, it is the single strangest event I've ever watched.

After nearly 15 minutes, the screaming man backed up from the front of the tank and started to aim his pathetic homemade weapon at it. The man was standing under the end of the tank's gun. When the gun moved, I thought they were going to blow the guy up. They turned the gun to one side and lowered it as far as it would go, and whoever was operating that gun swung it about, gently knocking the crazy man into a snow bank at the side of the road. After that, the tank continued on its way.

That moment in time taught me something that I've never forgotten. Don't get stressed out about stupid things. You only live once. Live well and be happy. Most of it, you can't control anyway.

Ten minutes later, the disabled tank was out of the way, and we left Vilnius, Lithuania and traveled onward to Poland. When I got home and heard about the supposed carnage in Vilnius, I just pictured that drunken guy with his butt in a snow bank. Fake news is nothing new in America.

Once we returned to Poland, we visited the city of Czestahowa and the Jasma Gorin Monastery that housed the Black Madonna painting, famous for being one of the earliest Madonna paintings in the world. We saw the Auschwitz Concentration Camp turned Holocaust Museum. Another thing that I learned on that trip was that whoever insists that the Holocaust never really happened; don't speak your opinion until you've seen what I saw in that place. We also visited Krakow and had a great time in Old Town with all the great restaurants, shopping, museums, discos, and tiny casinos. We toured the castle in Krakow and visited the underground community where people used to live inside the _Wieliczka_ Salt Mine. The residents that once lived in the city under the Earth, swore that it helped their lungs breathe away from the pollution of the time, and it aided in fighting their joint pain.

Soon we left Krakow for Prague, Czechoslovakia on a comfortable bus. We were back on schedule with our foreign visas and all seemed well at that point. I'd never been to Czechoslovakia, but their government problems had led me to a meeting in Switzerland once. Honestly, the place made me a little nervous given the state of politics in the world at that point. I was, however, finally going to see the place I'd heard so much about during the meeting. My curiosity was piqued, and I had been looking forward to seeing Prague for myself.

The Destiny Dream
Part XXXIX

"Mistakes are a part of the dues one pays for a full life."

-Sophia Loren

We checked into our hotel in Prague, which was being renovated and temporarily had no elevator. Once we hiked the four floors to our rooms and unpacked, we went to St. Wenceslas Square. The National Gallery was on the top of the hill, as the locals said. Romance was the theme with shops full of wine, flowers, picnic supplies, candles, candy and many other items of great use when impressing a mate. My group browsed every store, and tried some great candy.

We were supposed to visit with the city council. Dr. Max felt that we should do something officially of educational value while we were in Europe. Up until that point in time, our education had been extremely unconventional. There was no arguing with him when it came to what would and what would not justify the trip as an educational one.

Dr. Max had given me my latest lecture on following protocol. He said that I was only allowed to go out with the group's assigned guides, and I was supposed to avoid any news reports about Iraq and Kuwait for the sake of the children. Czechoslovakia had already finished its Velvet Revolution, and western media was far more common there than it was in the Soviet Union, meaning that there would be far more coverage of worldwide events.

The students began to notice that I was avoiding newsstands and TV.

"What's going on now?" Mitch, one of the young men in the group asked me.

We were standing next to the statue of St. Wenceslas on his horse, and all eyes were on me.

"We're shopping, and waiting to meet up with Dr. Max, why?" I asked.

"I noticed that you don't want to stop and check on the rest of the world," Mitch replied.

"I'm on vacation," I said.

"This is the first time in a week that we can buy a newspaper printed in English," Mitch argued. "Wouldn't it be nice to know what's going on at home? There's a newsstand right over there that has the Herald."

"Who cares?" I asked. "We'll find out about whatever is going on when we get home. This is the only time any of us will probably ever be in Prague."

"We've been with you nearly 24 hours a day. I think I know you," Mitch said. "I think you're keeping something from us."

"Like what?" I snapped at him.

"I don't know, but something isn't right with you," he answered.

I looked at my watch. It was time to go to town hall. It was time to go and learn something about local Czechoslovakian Politics.

"It's time to go for our meeting with the local officials," I replied.

"That's not an answer," Mitch said.

I knew I would never hear the end of it if we didn't show up for that meeting. I knew I should be the adult. After all, that's why I was along on the trip. I knew that in a couple of days I had to go home and be an adult. Political meetings sucked, and I knew that for a fact. Politics sucked and made the world a complicated, messy place to live. I really didn't want to spend my only afternoon in Prague listening to a bunch of bureaucrats try to explain why politics made sense.

I turned to the group of five students that was looking to me for answers. "Fuck it," I said. "Let's go and have some fun."

"What about the meeting?" Mitch asked.

"I've spent too much time in bureaucratic meetings," I replied. "Look, you guys aren't missing a thing. These meetings are boring, senseless, and don't change a thing. If you want to change something, then have a revolution. That's how things change here."

"Won't we get in trouble?" Mitch asked.

"I might, but I don't care," I said. "I would much rather eat some local food and check out the city. They have an amazing castle and this is where Franz Kafka worked. I want to spend my last full day in Eastern Europe doing something fun. I can go to government meetings anytime."

"What if it's something important?" Mitch asked. "What if there's a test or something?"

"Have you met Dr. Max?" I asked. "He hates tests. I've known him most of my life and worked with him for years. He only gives tests when he has to."

"You've worked with him for years?" Mitch asked. "What does that mean?"

"There are things you don't have to know," I said. "Look, we're wasting time. Let's go and see the city. It looks like a beautiful place."

I've spent a lot of my life listening to people talk about the things that they regret and the things that they never did, or didn't do. I've never regretted blowing off that meeting to see the city with the kids. It was one of the greatest single days of my life.

We went to a fancy restaurant up a narrow cobblestone street just off of St. Wenceslas Square. They brought us giant serving trays full of Czech specialty food for us to try. We tried them all. We sat around the table and talked and laughed. It makes me smile to think about it, even now.

After lunch we went to Old Town and saw the giant astronomical clock and watched as mechanical dolls performed to mark the hour. We took a streetcar to see Kafka's neighborhood, and walked to Prague Castle. The castle had gilded gates, immaculate stables, and frescoed ceilings. We exited the castle by an amazing set of stairs that stretched all the way down the hillside to the river below. The view was something I will never forget of an entire stunningly beautiful city stretching across the river valley and beyond.

We caught up with the rest of the students that evening at U Fleku, the country's oldest pub.

"Missed you at the meeting," Dr. Max said when I sat down next to him and joined the group at a large cafeteria style table.

"Sorry," I replied.

"Did you all enjoy Old Town and the Castle?" he asked.

"You had me followed?" I muttered. "I thought you said you weren't that kind of spy?"

"I wasn't the one who had you followed," he replied. "Remember, all CIA are considered spies in most parts of the world."

"Who followed me?" I asked, feeling nervous.

"Not important," he replied. "Don't get lost again."

"I'm quitting after this," I said.

"Easier said than done, but sure," he chuckled. "Hold that thought along with your glass slipper."

"I should hate you for getting me into this," I snapped, quietly.

"Probably," he replied.

I decided to deal with that problem later.

U Fleku was great. They served sweet black beer and great Bratwurst. We spent the evening dancing to Polka music. I sat at the table and watched everyone. That was how life should be. Everyone was happy and carefree. Everyone got along great. Everyone behaved like old friends. It was so easy, and so much fun. It just doesn't get any better than that.

The rest of the students caught a streetcar back to the hotel, but my group decided to walk back. We didn't want the day to end. The moon was full, the stars were out, and the city was full of lights. We could hear the clock in Old Town chiming. There was a man playing his guitar on the street corner next to the Charles Street Bridge. We stopped and danced in the shadows of the famous carved heads along the bridge, as we gazed at the castle, glowing with light on top of the hill.

I would never have another day like that, and I would never have another night like that. I would never see another view like that of Prague Castle, glowing with light all the way down the hill along its staircase to the river below. The students would become good friends of mine, because they had joined me on one of the most fabulous days of my life. I've wanted to visit Prague again, but I've been apprehensive. I think I might be disappointed after having the most perfect day of my life there. It really is the most beautiful city in the world.

Knocking woke me from my prophetic dream again. When I opened the door, Dr. Max was there. "Come with me."

He had a videotape. I watched it. That's all I have to say about that, except that it was a tape that no one should ever see. There really are things that the public just doesn't need to know. There are a lot of things that I've known in this life that I didn't wish to know. Knowing about that tape heads the list to this day.

"Where did you get this?" I asked Dr. Max. "When did this happen?"

"Today. Sergey (He was our guide) gave it to me at dinner," he explained. "It was on TV here for God's sake."

"So, the war is off?" I asked.

"What war?" Mitch had walked into the lounge where we were talking.

"This doesn't concern you," Dr. Max snapped at him. "Go back to bed."

"Hey, I'm not a child," Mitch snapped back. "If we have another Vietnam, I'll be the one getting drafted, not you. Is this about the Persian Gulf?"

"You should just tell him the truth," I told Dr. Max. "He's going to find out. Maybe it won't happen now, anyway."

Dr. Max sighed again. "This isn't something that can be stopped on a dime. There's not enough time to stop it."

"So, what is this?" I asked, pointing to the videotape in his hands. "Did you just want to make sure I didn't sleep for the rest of the trip?"

"I need you to take it with you." Dr. Max handed me the video tape. "Sergey is Czech intelligence. I need you to hang onto this thing until we get home. We'll need to turn it in when we get there."

"Why me?" I asked.

"What is that?" Mitch asked.

"You really don't need to know this," I replied.

"Fine, you two can fuck right off," Mitch snapped and walked away.

"Sorry," Dr. Max said. "I didn't want to upset any of the kids."

"Who cares," I muttered. "Why do I have to have this thing?"

"Because we'll probably have a lot of security to go through on the way home, and you are far less likely to be searched in customs," Dr. Max said.

"So, you want me to smuggle a video tape into the country?" I asked. "You keep trying to tell me we aren't spies."

"We're not," he snapped. "Just take the damn tape and put it with your things."

I took the tape from Dr. Max and put it in my luggage. Spies are paranoid. We had to smuggle that tape into the country in order to give it to the CIA, so they wouldn't think that we were hiding it from them. It was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever heard. I thought we should have burned the damn thing.

The next morning, we boarded our last train. We were on our way back to Frankfurt where we would stay the night before catching our flight home.

The Destiny Dream
Part XL

"It is awfully important to know what is and what is not your business."

-Gertrude Stein

The next evening we arrived in Frankfurt. We'd come full circle, and we were back at the Hotel Bahn. The adventure was coming to a close. That last night I was exhausted and nearly collapsed into my bed to get some sleep before the long trip home. That night I had the complete destiny dream. I heard "Father Figure" in its entirety. I saw a full view of the reservoirs first from the inside of a car with the sun visor down and that angel pin in view, I assumed it was the road that ran between the two lakes. I saw the dancing, the porthole, and the red ring on my right hand along with the wedding set on my left hand. I could tell the man was tall, and I was sure he was blonde. There was something new that night. I heard a dog barking in the background at the reservoirs during the dream.

I woke in a cold sweat. The hotel rooms at Hotel Bahn were tiny, and I needed air. It was 6:00 a.m., and I had to get up in a couple of hours anyway. I went down to the lobby to get a snack out of a machine. When I entered the lounge, I found all of the guys from our tour group assembled in front of the TV. They all looked up at me.

"What?" I asked.

Mitch pointed at the TV. "Something's going on, but we can't understand what they're saying."

I sat down where I could see the TV. It was a reporter. The United States had led the attack against Saddam Hussein. The land war in Kuwait and Iraq had begun. We were watching the first strike in the background on the screen at that moment. I had no idea what to say to them. I could see that they were frightened. Who could blame them? They were just kids, and it was the first time they'd witnessed the U.S. at war.

"We attacked," I said, barely above a whisper. "It's officially a war."

They all looked at each other. "I knew you and Dr. Max were full of shit last night," Mitch snapped. "I don't need to know, my ass."

"It's complicated," I said. "I'm failing to understand it, myself."

"Now what do we do?" Mitch asked.

"Now we pack up and leave," Dr. Max announced from the doorway. "Our escorts will be here in an hour." He turned to me. "Would you please rouse the girls?"

"What should I tell them?" I asked.

"Get everyone down here to grab some breakfast and I'll explain." Dr. Max waved his hand at me. "Go on. We have to move."

I woke the rest of the students, and we assembled in the lounge and ate breakfast. Everyone was curious to know what was happening. Dr. Max had disappeared, and we waited for him to talk to us to explain it all. After what felt like forever, he came into the lounge.

"I know you have a lot of questions," Dr. Max began. "We went to war with Iraq and Saddam Hussein this morning. I've been expecting it, so I personally am not shocked. However, I was hoping it would happen on any other day. Travel is about to become impossible. Europe has protocols in place for this situation, and they are activating them today. In the event of war, especially one that has the potential to escalate like this one does, the public airports across Europe have closed. I have some connections , so the airport has agreed to check our bags and let us fly out of here today, but we need to leave immediately. We cannot take our original flight because it was cancelled. We have to take an alternative flight to London."

"London?" one of the girls asked. "We weren't supposed to go to London."

"I realize that, but it's the best they could do," Dr. Max replied. "Gatwick Airport in the London area is prepared to allow us to land."

"Jesus," I muttered. "Okay kids. Let's go. You heard the man. We need to leave now."

"Yes, get your things and meet back here now," Dr. Max said. "This will not be like any trip you've ever had through an airport. Please, do not be offended or scared. The soldiers will go through every bag and every item for their code red security. It's just a safety precaution, so they can allow us to fly from here to London."

"What do we do when we get to London?" I asked.

"I'm not exactly sure," Dr. Max replied. "I'm still trying to work something out."

"Do you mean we can't catch our flight there either?" Mitch asked.

"I don't know." Dr. Max was being very honest at that point. "We can't land at Heathrow, because it's closed, and they refuse to open for any reason. That's why we're flying to Gatwick. It's smaller and not in the metropolitan center. They really are only opening for our flight. I don't know anything else at this time."

"Perfect," I said. "This is a nightmare."

"It's not as bad as it seems," Dr. Max insisted. "Britain is further away from Kuwait than Germany is. Now, get moving. Our escorts will be here shortly."

Then I saw a soldier, wearing fatigues and a camouflage helmet, carrying a machine gun, standing in the doorway. "Are you the Americans who need to leave today?" he asked. "We have transports and are ready to leave when you are."

"We'll be right out," Dr. Max answered him. "Get your things, and let's go," he ordered us.

I went up to my room and threw my things in my suitcase as fast as I could. I remembered the videotape that I didn't want anyone to ever see. Dr. Max had told me to keep it, but the soldiers had machine guns, and I was scared out of my mind. Dr. Max had been wrong about a lot of things lately. Given the present situation, I was sure he was wrong about the videotape. I couldn't find anywhere to hide it in my room. I couldn't burn it, because there were fire alarms and sprinklers everywhere. I decided that I could not take that videotape with me.

I quickly snuck up to the top floor, which was nothing more than partial walls, scaffolding, and dust. There was a rectangular shaped space in the wall that looked like an emergency box at mid installation, and in the bottom of it was a hole. I dropped that video tape down inside the wall through the hole and went to meet the others. I panicked, and it was probably a stupid move, but it was done, and I couldn't undo it. I had no idea where the hole went to.

The soldiers drove us to the airport in military personnel trucks. Every soldier carried a machine gun. When we arrived at the airport in our military convoy, there was no one there that we could see. There were no cars, there was only one plane, courtesy of TWA, and there were no workers anywhere. My stomach felt sick. I'd never been in an empty airport, and it was surreal. Every sound echoed in the giant terminals with no people to absorb any of the sound waves. There was no smell of coffee. There were no announcements. There were no departures or arrivals on the boards. There was no one at any gate. It all felt like a dream—a bad dream.

We sat at our departure gate in uncomfortable green chairs for two hours while German militia went through our underwear with a fine toothed comb. We all sat perfectly still, not wanting to do anything wrong around the soldiers. Machine guns are intimidating enough to keep an entire group of tourists from doing so much as going to the bathroom. After an hour, Dr. Max came to talk to me.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I hoped we would leave before this happened."

"It's okay," I replied. "So, what's the plan?"

"I don't know. I just don't know." He stood up and hit the pole next to his chair. "Damn it!" he snapped. "I can't believe I got caught with my pants down like this! It's not like me. This has never happened before."

"We still need a ride home from London, don't we?" I replied. "Would Gatwick let a private jet slip in and out to pick us up?"

He looked at me the way I normally looked at him, with total confusion. "Probably, but remember, there's no time. The airports are only giving us a few hours. We can't wait for a plane to come from the U.S."

I grinned. "A week and a half ago, I had a bad feeling about this. Remember Leningrad? I called Leon then."

"You what?" He started to smile. "No."

"I called Leon, and I told him that I refused to get stuck here. I have a divorce to file for before I lose my nerve," I said. "He agreed to help out if we needed it."

"He's here?" Dr. Max asked.

"He's in Zurich, waiting," I replied. "He just needs to be allowed to take off from Kloten and land at Gatwick."

"I've taught you well. That's fabulous!" he exclaimed. "We need to get permission to use a phone." He waved a soldier over. "We need to use a telephone."

"Yes, sir," the soldier said. "This way."

We stood to follow the soldier and his machine gun.

"You call Leon, and I'll call Gatwick," Dr. Max said. "Let's go home."

Dr. Max made his call first from the office where the soldier had taken us. He went into the office and emerged a few minutes later.

"It's all set," Dr. Max said. "I gave Gatwick the information, and they are willing to allow Leon to land. I gave them the N Number from the side of his jet for identification."

"Okay, my turn," I said. I went in the office.

I called the only number I had, which was the number of Leon's hotel in Zurich. I was connected with his room.

"Hello," Leon said.

"Thank God you're there," I said. "I need that favor."

"Sandy, thank God. Where are you?" Leon asked.

"Frankfurt. We are flying to Gatwick, near London," I replied.

"This is bad timing," Leon said. "What do you need me to do?"

"Do you have permission to take off from Kloten?" I asked him.

"I'm at a private airstrip, owned by a friend, so sure," he replied. "I didn't want to get trapped at a public airport. You know they close them when the whole world might go to war, don't you?"

"No shit," I snarked. "That's why I asked you to come over here in the first place."

"I've had a lovely time. Thanks for asking," he snarked back. "If you will be at Gatwick, I'll need special permission to land. They're probably closed."

"They are," I said. "Dr. Max already got you cleared."

"Okay, on my way, Princess," he said. "See you in a few."

Dr. Max had joined the group, and I saw him pacing the floor while the students huddled together as I approached them. He looked at me expectantly. I gave him a thumbs up sign. He smiled.

"That's my girl!" Dr. Max exclaimed.

"It is time to go," the flight attendant announced as she opened the door for us to board the plane. "Passports, please."

"How do we get home from London?" Mitch asked.

"Sandy has arranged a private charter for us," Dr. Max explained. "It will be meeting us at Gatwick."

The group cheered.

I watched out the window as our TWA flight took off from Frankfurt. Once we were off the ground, I saw the runway lights go out below us. Frankfurt Flughafen was closed.

The Destiny Dream
Part XLI

"You must do the things you think you cannot do."

-Eleanor Roosevelt

Our flight began its descent into Gatwick Airport about an hour after our take off from Frankfurt. When I looked out of the window, I could see that the airport was dark. The runway lights came on just for us as we approached. Dr. Max pulled every string he had in his arsenal for that stunt. I didn't want to know what he did to make it happen. I was simply glad that we could go home. I didn't want to weather a war trapped in Europe. I wanted to get home to my own upcoming war with my soon to be ex husband.

As we taxied across the tarmac, I could see that one small section of the terminal was active and had lights. Leon's familiar Lear jet was parked there as well. I don't think I'd ever been so happy to see that stupid plane.

Leon met me at the gate. "Hey toots, need a lift?"

"I have never been so glad to see you." I ran to him and he swept me up in a huge whirling embrace.

Dr. Max joined us and shook Leon's hand. "Not bad, but you're not getting a hug." He grinned with pride as we, the students, became the masters.

"Well then, how about a big, sloppy kiss?" Leon said.

I slapped Leon on the shoulder and laughed. Everything was going to be okay. I motioned the students to join in our celebration.

"This is a very dear friend of mine and Dr. Max's," I announced to the group. "This is Leon. He's going to fly us home tonight."

"The few staff members here are loading your luggage right now," Leon said. "Any necessary bag inspections have been completed. Passports are in order. I've finished fueling and pre-flight checks. As soon as we have clearance for takeoff, we can board and be on our way. We will make a fueling stop at the naval base in Keflavik, Iceland due to our weight, and we will land at Logan International Airport in Boston. After we clear customs, USAir will arrange flights home for you. Once we land in Boston, you can contact your families about when and where to pick you up. I will be continuing to Fort Wayne, if anyone wishes to come along."

The students applauded when Leon was finished speaking. We had all had a long trip.

"We've had quite a trip," Dr. Max said. "I'm glad you've all been patient and understanding through the oddities and inconveniences. These trips are supposed to be educational. I think we've achieved that." He paused and giggled. "I'll never forget this group. It's been—God willing—a one of a kind adventure. I'm happy that Sandy was paranoid enough to make it possible for us to go home today." He glanced at me. "She's a very interesting woman."

An airport employee began to motion us toward the door. "It's time to board the plane."

"It's officially time for us to go home," Dr. Max announced.

Leon and I led the way to the door. There was a man at the door wearing an FAA jacket. He wasn't an airport employee. He stopped Leon by putting his arm out. "Are you the pilot?"

"Yes," Leon answered him.

"You flew here alone," he said.

"Yes," Leon replied. "Is there a problem? I filed a flight plan with you half an hour ago."

"I know, but you didn't say you had over six passengers." He pulled out a book. "Regulations, sir. For that many people, you need a co-pilot."

Leon and I looked at each other and smiled. Leon pulled a card from his clipboard. "No kidding." He handed the man the card.

The man looked it over carefully. "You fly?" he asked me.

"Yes, I do," I replied. "I've logged over a hundred hours on that very jet."

He handed the card back to Leon. "Okay. You're free to go."

I got everyone settled in their seats, and made sure that they had a snack and something to drink for the ride home. This was a no frills flight with a fueling stop, which meant that no one would leave the plane while in Iceland. I felt more like a stewardess or camp counselor at that point, with a bunch of cranky tired children to attend to. Once everyone was ready, I walked toward the cockpit.

Dr. Max reached out and grabbed me by the arm as I was walking by his seat. He pulled me toward him so he could whisper. "When did you learn to fly?"

"I have skills that even you can't imagine." I smiled at him. "I have to sit down so we can take off. We'll talk later."

A few minutes later we took off from Gatwick, headed for America via Iceland. Finally, we were going home. I looked behind us as we flew over the end of the runway. The lights went out. Europe was closed. I hate war.

Leon and I sat in the cockpit minding the controls and catching up. It had been a long three weeks, and I was as happy that I was as paranoid a person as everyone else was. We reached our cruising altitude, and Leon switched on the auto pilot.

"We pulled it off," he sighed.

I leaned my chair back and shook my head. "I about shit when I saw the FAA jacket on that guy."

"That's why I had this made in Zurich," he said, handing me my fake pilot's license. "You want to keep it?"

I took it from him and looked at it. "Sure. They do good work."

"I know where to shop." Leon smiled again.

I put the card in my pocket. "I think Dr. Max has either officially turned us into spies, or criminals."

"What's the difference?" Leon asked.

"Good question," I replied. I switched off the stay seated light for the passenger compartment. It's pretty cramped back there. This is maximum capacity, isn't it?"

"Yes," Leon replied. "If you'd had one more person, we could have had a big problem. At least this way, I have some company up here."

"Yes, there was no place for me to sit in back," I said.

Dr. Max stuck his head in the door. "Okay, what happened back there?"

Leon and I looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"This isn't a laughing matter," Dr. Max said sternly. "Are we flying illegally? Because, if so, we need to come up with a plan before we land in Boston."

"Dr. Max, would you care to tell us one international law of travel that you haven't twisted at least once over the years?" I asked. "This is nothing."

"Nothing," he snapped. "What if something happens to him, and he can't finish the flight? Do you want to crash into the north Atlantic in January?"

"It doesn't matter where we crash," I scoffed. "The crash will kill us all."

"That was not my point," he snapped.

I rolled my eyes at him. "I can fly and land this plane. I just haven't had time to log the 800 or so hours to get licensed to fly a Lear jet. You have to work your way through several classes of aircraft to fly it legally. It doesn't mean that I am unable to fly it."

"She's right." Leon told Dr. Max. "I let her fly this jet all the time. She can handle it. She's a natural, and has no trouble flying it. If I didn't trust her, I wouldn't let her fly my plane."

"Fine, but where did the license come from?" Dr. Max asked.

"Don't worry about it," Leon told Dr. Max.

"I've taught you well," Dr. Max replied. "I need to sit down."

Dr. Max left, and Leon smiled at me. "I think he's just pissed 'cause he didn't think of it himself. So, how was your trip? From what I've seen, it must have been interesting."

I laughed. "Interesting is such an understatement."

For the next hour, I told Leon about my adventure. I was wired from all the excitement. I probably sounded like I'd had fifteen cups of coffee. But, while I was all wound up from the thrill, the passengers slept. They'd had enough.

What were you up to in Switzerland while you were waiting around for me to call?" I asked. "I mean, besides getting me a pilot's license."

"I spent my time knocking about town, hanging out with the locals, and shopping. I brought you a gift." He handed me a box.

I took the ring box from him. I was shaking. "Oh, Leon," I said, afraid that it was a proposal.

"Don't be so self-centered," Leon snarked. "That would be like marrying my sister."

I opened it. I couldn't believe it. It was the red ring I'd seen in my dream.

"I saw Hilda, the gypsy that Cassie was going on about," he told me. "She told me to give this to you."

"She was in Zurich?" I asked.

"No, I went to Budapest for a couple of days," he replied. "I found her by the giant cross on Castle Hill, just like Cassie said. You need to go and see her. She's creepy, but incredible."

"Why did she tell you to give me this?' I asked. I sat and stared at it. It was as though I had dreamed it into existence.

"She said you would understand," Leon said. "That's all I know about it."

I put it on my right ring finger. It fit perfectly on my oddly thin finger. What were the odds of that?

"Did she tell you anything useful?" I snapped. "Or did she just give you the ring?"

"She told me lots of things," he said. "She said that you're not following your destiny, because you're stubborn, and that you need to find where you belong. She said that you would be miserable for the rest of your life if you didn't find the man in your dream by the time your team wins the world championship."

I burst out laughing. "Well, I'll have the rest of my life then."

"What makes you say that?" he asked.

"I'm a Packers fan," I said. "Green Bay hasn't won a Super Bowl since 1968. They suck. They were only 6 – 10 this year, and that was better than normal."

"Maybe she was talking about another sport," he offered.

"There is no other sport," I insisted. "Football is the sport."

Eventually, we landed at all of our stops without incident and I deplaned with Leon and Dr. Max in Fort Wayne. There were still a couple of students on board as well, who ran to meet their families the second we opened the hatch.

I walked to the exit with Leon. "With a war on, I'm sure I'll see you soon," I said. "I'm actually going to miss you."

Leon smiled. "Well, Hilda made me promise to look out for you, so I'll be checking in on you regularly." He gave me a big hug. "Besides, you'll get into this divorce and need me for something. I can see that coming. You'll call me, and I'll come running."

"What are big brothers for?" I asked.

"You have a way about you," he said. "You're like a little sister to me but there is something about you that sticks in a guy's head forever. God help that guy in your dream. When you find him, he won't stand a chance. He'll be hooked." He smiled. "Well, I have a date. I'll see you soon."

"I'll see you soon." I kissed him on the cheek. "My hero."

He smiled, took his bag, and left Dr. Max and I near the exit.

A man in a military uniform, that looked like the Marines approached Dr. Max and me as we walked toward the exit.

"What's going on now?" I asked.

"This is Major Farrell," Dr. Max said to me. He turned to him. "This is Sandy." He turned back to me. "He's here to pick up the videotape."

I gave a nervous laugh. "I don't have it."

"What!" Dr. Max yelled. "What do you mean, you don't have it? What the hell did you do with it?"

"Hey, don't yell at me," I snapped. "It's been a hell of a trip. When those soldiers came to escort us to the airport with their machine guns, I freaked out."

"What did you do with it?" Major Farrell asked.

"I threw it out. It went into the hotel dumpster in Frankfurt," I lied.

"Not smart," Dr. Max said. He looked at Major Farrell. "What can we do about it now?" He put his arm around my shoulder and began to walk away. "Let's go home."

"I'll be in touch, Max." Major Farrell said as we left.

Dr. Max rented a car for the drive home. He didn't say much until we were almost there.

"I don't want to talk about the tape," he said. "I just want you to know that it won't end that easily."

"I know," I replied.

The Destiny Dream
Part XLII

"See, Heaven is not someplace on a disc in the sky floating around, it's right here amongst us."

-Sylvia Browne

When Dr. Max pulled into my driveway at 2:00 a.m. that night, all the lights were on, and my house was full of people. Walter was having a party. When I went inside, I found him and a bunch of his buddies, smoking cigarettes, drinking beer, and watching porn movies. The house was trashed. There were dishes everywhere, trash strewn about the entire house, and there was a smell that I didn't want to identify. They were laughing and yelling at each other over the movie. They were having a wonderful time.

Walter was home, which he never was when I was around. He hadn't even missed me. I realized that I was just the housekeeper. I hadn't called him for a ride, because I didn't want to keep him up late. I was being considerate to a man who hadn't given a crap about me in a very long time, if ever.

I stood in the kitchen, staring into the living room at all the guys. Walter turned and saw me. "Oh, you're home." That was all he said. I'd been gone for three weeks.

I left Walter. I mean, I left him the very next morning. I wondered what I did wrong and why he didn't care at all about me. I wondered until I realized that if I tried to blame myself for the whole mess, I would never have the confidence to move on with my life. I realized that the reality of the whole damn thing was that I got married too young and for all the wrong reasons.

Walter wasn't a bad guy. He was just the wrong guy. He would have to learn to take care of himself. I didn't want anything. I wanted to be away, so I could get on with my life. I filed for a divorce with Jake's help, and Leon helped me move into an apartment.

"I didn't know there was anything wrong," Walter said, when I told him that I was moving out.

"I told you that I wasn't happy," I replied.

"You were never happy," he snapped. "Nothing is ever good enough for you."

"I'm not blaming you," I said.

"You'd better not be," he snapped. "I did everything you wanted and put up with all your shit. I did everything I could. You're impossible. And now, you're walking out on me like I did something to you."

"It's not like that," I attempted to explain.

"Sure it's not," he snarked. "All you ever do is stupid things that cost me money, and then when you aren't happy, I pay with your meltdowns and bitching. Go ahead and leave. I've wasted enough time on you."

"But," I tried to talk.

He held up his hand. "Enough, drag your ass."

It was much easier to divorce him after that talk. I actually had a fleeting thought that he might miss me, or be sad without me, but he had a date with his ex-girlfriend, Karen, before I'd finished unpacking at my new place.

In the long run it made me feel better to know that I hadn't really mattered to him. It did a lot to help wipe any guilt I was feeling away. Let Karen deal with it. I'd finally gotten the better end of a deal.

I got my pineapple from Jake and sold it. That weird looking diamond was worth $1,500,000. Grandma Miriam had quite a backup plan. I was wealthy in my own right and could do whatever I wanted. I could pick out any man I wanted. I hated most of them at the time, but someday I would get over that. I was single, rich, and independent. I was studying to secure a better future for myself. I came out of a five and a half year marriage smarter, happier, and richer than ever. Life is strange.

For the next several months, I spent my time doing what I wanted. Jake helped me with what turned out to be an easy divorce. Walter was in a big hurry to finalize things so he could marry Karen. I was happy for him. He needed a wife. I didn't know what would happen when Karen discovered what being married to him was like, but that was not my problem.

While I had been running around Europe, Paula had gotten used to having my dog, Bop at her house. I knew I wouldn't be a very good master with my new single life, so I left him with her. I felt that he would be happier with someone who was home and had a young boy for him to play with. It broke my heart, but he was happier with a family that had time for him. I loved that dog more than most people will ever understand. I loved him enough to give him a good home, even though I missed him every day.

Living in North Manchester, Indiana was like living in Hollywood at times. Hollywood has tabloids, and North Manchester has the world's largest gossip network. For every time that I went flying with Leon, I apparently had sex. For every time I went out with Jake, I apparently continued the affair that I was reportedly having during my marriage. For every night I spent away, I reportedly spent it in the boys dorm at school having orgies. I answered a lot of ridiculous questions about my personal life everywhere I went.

Irregardless of what the rumor mill said I was up to, I spent Friday nights with my friends. I went out with Jake, Lauren, and the rest of my group of friends. Leon checked in on me a lot—normally late at night when he was passing through town. That did a lot to fuel his part of the slut rumors.

When Dr. Max started checking in on me on a regular basis, people started to say that I was a hooker. It was the only explanation that the local gossips could come up with that explained how I could live on my own without my husband's money.

I was surprised at how little any of the rumors bothered me. I was happy. I felt free and alive. I behaved like a college kid in ways. I spent a lot of time putting out the school newspaper. I went to school dances with my college friends. I even took a couple of weekend road trips with some of the girls from school. I was finally having my childhood, and I felt that I'd earned it.

Dr. Max asked me to do a little translating for him off and on. The official war in Iraq hadn't lasted long. There was still fighting, but the all out war only lasted a short time. Soon, people were traveling the globe again as if nothing had ever happened.

Spring turned into summer. My divorce was finalized. My first year of college ended with me making the dean's list for both terms. Walter was happily dating his fiancé, Karen.

Jake and I tried dating, but we were meant to be friends. Sometimes, that's just all people are supposed to be to one another. I knew he loved me, but I knew that someday I would have to leave. I knew that I didn't belong in Indiana, and I knew that Jake would never leave. I knew he wasn't the man that I would spend the rest of my life with, in part, because he wasn't the man in the dream. I knew I would miss him when the time came for me to go, but sometimes that's the way life goes. Some things are not meant to be.

July came and Alex Martin died for real. I'd managed to stay in touch over the years, and Stella called me from Martin Island when he passed. She said that it was like losing a member of her own family. She said that Alex had left the island to her and Maurice, and that they were going to stay there for a while.

August came, and with it an August Coup in what was left of the Soviet Union. I was glad that Dr. Max didn't involve me much in his affairs concerning that situation. He asked me to translate during some phone calls. He thought that I needed a break after our wild trip in January. He was right. Leon was glad that we weren't doing a lot of traveling too. We all needed a rest, and the world was changing at a mile a minute during that time. No one person or group of people could keep tabs on everything that was happening at that time. It was just too much. That was the time in history when no one knew what the outcome would be. Russia was being formed, again.

Leon came to visit me on one of the rare evenings that I was home that August. He brought over a VHS of "When Harry Met Sally..." for us to watch. Leon hated to admit that he liked chick flicks, so he made me watch them with him. It kept his manhood intact in his mind.

After the movie, I started talking about my grandma. I got my photo albums out, and I showed him pictures of her. She'd hated to have her picture taken as much as I always had, but I finally found one that I'd taken just after my high school graduation.

Leon looked at it. His face suddenly lost all color.

"Are you all right?" I asked. "You look like you're going to pass out."

"This is your grandma?" he asked, holding the picture up to me.

"Yes, why?" I asked.

"And she's dead?" he asked. "You're sure?"

"Yes, for years now. I saw her buried. Why?" I snapped.

He stared back and forth from the picture to me.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"That's Hilda." he said.

At that moment at least a million thoughts raced through my head. That was too much of a coincidence for me. Who was Hilda? She reportedly, was just as intent on me pursuing that destiny dream as my grandma had been. Cassie and Leon had told me a lot about her, but she still seemed like a figment of their imaginations. Recently I'd received, from Hilda, the red ring that mysteriously fit my tiny finger and I had seen previously in my dream. My grandma was dead. Now Leon was telling me that this Hilda person looked like her. What could possibly connect my grandma to some gypsy psychic from Budapest?

"Are you still with me?" Leon asked. He was waving a hand in front of my face.

"Yeah," I said. I was so disoriented that I couldn't gather my thoughts into words. "That blew me away."

"It's freaky," he agreed. "I can't believe the resemblance."

"My grandma is dead!" I screamed. I began to cry. "I still have trouble with that! I can't handle this!"

"I'm sorry," he said. "I really am. I never meant to upset you. I would never do that."

"I know," I sobbed. "I miss her so much. I've given up or lost most everyone in my life. I've given up everything. I'm lonely. I always miss her most when I'm feeling lonely. Stupid, huh?"

"Not at all," Leon assured me. "When I feel lonely, I run over here to hang out with you. You forget, I walked away from everyone and everything too. I know how it feels."

"I know," I sniffled. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you ever feel like you made the wrong choices in your life?" I asked.

"It would have been easier to do what my family and friends expected of me," Leon said. "It would have been a lot easier to join the church and marry one of the nice church girls that my parents wanted me to. I could have been exactly who they wanted me to be. I was perfectly capable of that."

"That doesn't answer my question," I interjected.

"I made the right choices. They aren't my real family, and I don't care what anyone says, it makes a difference. It makes a huge difference knowing that I don't have the Old Order DNA. You know I'm adopted. I am who I am. I feel sorry for all the people who turned their backs on me, because they never got to know the real me. I like myself. I wouldn't want to be anyone else," Leon explained. "You should stick to your guns too. There are plenty of people out there who will accept you for who you are. Besides, you're pretty terrific."

"Thanks," I said. I sat up and wiped my eyes. "Okay, I'm back. Now, I need to find out who Hilda is. I need to know."

"Maybe she's your dead grandma," Leon suggested.

"Don't be stupid," I snarked. "Grandma's dead. Trust me."

"Well, I don't know," Leon snapped. "You're the one having destiny dreams about songs that don't come out until years after. You're the one that sees things in your sleep. You're the one who has the identical twin that you didn't know about. You tell me."

I sighed. I hated the destiny dream theory. I hated the dream. There had to be an explanation for Hilda the gypsy, but what it was I had no idea.

The Destiny Dream
Part XLIII

"In a way, women are a psychic immigrant group."

-Gloria Steinem

"Where do I start to get an answer about something like this?" I asked.

"I don't know," Leon replied. "Start with her name. Was your grandma's name Hilda?"

"I told you not to be ridiculous. My grandma's name was Marta," I answered.

"Marta what?" he asked.

"Let me call my dad. I have no idea what my grandma's maiden name was," I replied.

"Hi dad. It's Sandy," I said when he picked up the phone.

"Hello daughter, how are you?" he replied. "It's late."

"I know. I'm sorry. I needed to ask you something." I paused. "What was grandma's maiden name?"

"Your grandma's maiden name?" dad repeated. "Why?"

"I'm just curious," I told him.

"Heimel," he answered. "Marta Heimel."

"What about her middle name?" I asked.

"She didn't have one," my dad said.

"What do you mean, she didn't have one?" I asked.

"I mean, she didn't have a middle name," he insisted. "A lot of old world Europeans don't have middle names."

"Old world Europeans?" I exclaimed. "Was grandma born in Europe?"

"I thought she told you everything," he said. "She came over here with your grandpa right after they were married. She left her whole family behind in Hungary to come to America during the war."

"Thanks, dad," I said. "Gotta go. Bye."

I hung up the phone and looked at Leon. "Good God, she was from Hungary."

"Wow," he said.

"Apparently, there are signs everywhere. I guess there are no coincidences," I said. "Whether I want to believe it or not, my life is guided by some stupid dream that's a prophecy about my destiny. Whoever this Hilda is; apparently, she has all the answers."

"This is the single craziest thing I've ever heard or seen," Leon said. "I could tell there was something about that old woman when I saw her. Do you think she's your grandma's sister?"

"I have a twin," I said. "Maybe she did too."

"Why didn't your grandma tell you?" Leon asked.

"You're talking about my family," I said. "I'll never know why."

"Good point," he replied.

"I guess I have no choice," I sighed. "I need to go and find answers."

Leon smiled and stood up. "I suppose I'll get my jet ready to go to Budapest."

"That sounds about right," I replied.

Budapest, Hungary is a dazzling old European city. It's almost as magical as Prague. Like Prague, many areas had a beautiful view of the city and overlooked the river. The best views in Budapest were from high atop Castle Hill. Castle Hill was the biggest tourist hangout in the city. It was directly across from the Parliament Building and overlooked the beautiful Danube River and the famous Chain Bridge. It was home of the National Museum and Fisherman's Bastion. Everything seemed like magic and make believe on top of Castle Hill.

Leon indulged my need to see the sites and views. I'd vowed after the college trip, that I wouldn't travel any more without being a tourist. We watched the sunset from atop the walls of the Fisherman's Bastion. There was a street musician playing his guitar a few feet away from us. It was a wonderful experience. I loved to feel like I was in another world, away from my troubles. But we'd come to Budapest to find Hilda. No amount of beautiful, peaceful moments could make it go away. I had to solve the mystery of the destiny dream once and for all.

Once the sun was gone, Leon led me to the place where he'd found Hilda on his previous trip. There was a shopping area in Old Town, amidst the buildings on Castle Hill. It had narrow stone streets, brightly painted buildings, shops of all kinds, and a circle with a fenced in, six foot tall monument topped with a cross. That is where Leon took me to find Hilda. He sat down on a bench in front of the monument and motioned for me to join him. He'd stopped and gotten sodas for us to drink on the way. It was dark, and the area was dimly lit. We sat for a while. I watched the tourists still eagerly shopping for Hungarian treasures just before the shops closed for the night.

I looked at my watch. "We've been sitting here for almost an hour," I noted. "Maybe she's not coming here today."

"Maybe," Leon sighed. "This is exactly where and when she found me last time."

All of a sudden, I got a terrible chill. The last time I'd felt that kind of a chill, was the night my grandma had died. I shuddered.

"Are you okay?" Leon asked.

"I got a chill. Like when my grandma died," I muttered. I felt lightheaded. I doubled over with pain, like I did the night my grandma had died.

Leon leaned over. "What is it? Should we go to the hospital?"

I was holding my stomach. "I don't think so," I groaned. I felt sick, tired, and had terrible pains. "I can't explain it, but I'll be okay." I smelled Apple Blossom Perfume, like I used to when my grandma entered a room. My pain went away. I sat up and turned to Leon. "It's gone."

"Just like that?" he asked. "How..."

I raised my finger and pointed straight ahead. Leon looked where I was pointing. Approaching us out of the shadows was an ancient, withered, little old lady. She wore a white peasant blouse, a bright red shawl, a bright multi colored, long handkerchief skirt. She had a shawl over her hair, which was snow white. She walked straight at us, her gaze fixed on me. As she got closer to us, I realized how much she looked like my grandma. The Apple Blossom Perfume got more pungent as she drew closer. I knew the second my eyes met hers that she was Hilda.

Hilda walked directly to me and extended her tiny, withered hand for me to shake. "At last we meet," she said. She smiled like a dried apple doll. "You must be Sandy."

My angst went away in that moment. Suddenly, I felt as safe and comfortable as I used to feel at my grandma's house. I smiled and nearly cried. "Yes, you must be Hilda."

"Who else?" She smiled and shrugged. She had a thick Hungarian accent which sounded beautiful. I instantly felt connected to the withered old woman.

"Hello, Leon," she said to him. "I expected you sooner."

"She's stubborn," he said. He grinned at her and then at me. "It wasn't easy."

"Smart ass," I said to him sarcastically.

"Be nice to him, my dear. He's doing his best to look out for you like I asked him to," she scolded me, then she spoke to Leon again. "I'm impressed that you got through to her at all. No one else has been able to. Come." She motioned us to follow her. "Let's go somewhere we can visit properly."

We walked with her down a side street that was too narrow for a car to drive through, to a group of small old buildings. She led us into a bright red building with a bright yellow door and a window box on its only window. Inside was a collection of beautiful items from all over the world. She had photos covering the walls. Everything in her house was as old as time. It was fascinating.

"I'll get us something fresh to drink," she said as she walked to the kitchen. "Please, be comfortable."

"Did you come here last time?" I asked Leon.

"No," he said, looking around.

There was so much to look at. The room was more cluttered than any I had ever seen. She had nesting dolls from Russia, Buddha Statues from China, pieces that looked African, Indian, Mexican, etc. It was as though little pieces of the whole world had landed in her living room. On the mantle over her tiny fireplace was a green glass plate with a child's head on it and the alphabet around its edge. Underneath it was a handmade tatted doily.

Hilda re-entered the room carrying a tray full of drinks. Leon took it from her and brought them to a table where we all sat down.

"Thank you," I said as I accepted a diet soda from her.

"It's so nice to finally meet you," she said. "I've been anxiously awaiting this moment for years."

"I wish I understood," I stammered. "To be honest, Hilda, the first time I ever heard of you was from Cassie."

"Marta never mentioned me?" she asked. "Not at all?"

"No. I see you have an alphabet plate." I gestured toward the mantel. "Did you get it from her? Is she your sister?"

"The plate." She smiled. "We each had one. We got them from mama. Marta took hers when she ran away to America. Yes, Marta was my twin sister. Do you not see the resemblance?"

"That explains everything!" Leon exclaimed. "But what about all the psychic stuff?"

"I see things." Hilda replied. "Your grandma believed every vision I had, and they mostly came true. I don't know why I see things. Call it what you will. But, whatever you may think of the ramblings of a little old lady, keep one thing in mind." She waved her arm around at everything in the room. "Virtually every item in this room is a gift from someone who listened to my visions. Near every item is a thank you."

"Wow," I said. "Grandma saw things too. Cassie and I have dreams. I guess it runs in the family." I looked her straight in the face, my eyes fixed on hers. "So, here I am. What do you want to tell me?"

"You're energy is so strong and you are so stubborn," Hilda said. "I am afraid you will never follow your true path. Your destiny dream will lead you to your future. If you ignore the signs, you could miss it. Did you get the ring I sent with Leon?"

"Here it is." I showed it to her.

"It was in your dream, yes?" she questioned me.

"Yes," I answered. "But there was also some nonsense about a world championship. What's that about?"

Hilda smiled. "You favor Green Bay, isn't it? Packers, correct?"

"Yes, but grandma could have told you that," I replied. "That was her favorite team. There's no mystery there."

"They'll win your American Super Bowl," she said. "What I said was that you would get everything you've been looking for in the year that your team becomes world champions."

"My team sucks," I snarked.

"Things are about to change for them," she insisted.

"When will that happen?" I asked.

"This fall your team will change," she replied. "You will see."

"I'll believe that when I see it," I scoffed. "So, when do you believe they'll win a Super Bowl?"

"You will be 32 years old," she said.

The Destiny Dream
Part XLIV

"In this rat-race everybody's guilty till proved innocent!"

-Bette Davis

"You can't know that," I said. "How can you possibly know that?"

"Once you learn to trust your feelings, anything is possible," Hilda said.

"Anything?" I asked.

"You have the gift," Hilda replied. "You both do."

Leon and I shot each other a look. "We both who?" Leon asked.

Hilda watched us for a moment. "You don't know?"

"Know what?" I asked.

"Leon, do you know about your parents?" she asked.

"What about your parents?" I asked him.

Leon gaped at Hilda. "I know I'm adopted. So?"

"So, you are her brother," Hilda said, pointing to me.

I woke up after fainting a while later. Hilda and Leon were staring at me.

"No," I said to Hilda.

"Are you okay, princess?" Leon asked me.

"No," I said to Hilda again.

"Yes," she replied.

I looked at him. "You're my brother?"

"Marta told you nothing?" Hilda asked.

My mind raced to remember everything that my family had ever said. I remembered no hint about the brother until the day my mother had blurted it out. My grandma never said a word about it even after that moment. I didn't start working with Leon until after grandma had died.

It did explain everything. It explained why he frustrated me so much, but he was still my best friend. It explained why we were closer than most spouses, but were completely not attracted to each other. It explained why we always felt safe when we were together. However, I simply couldn't wrap my mind around the idea of Leon being my brother.

Then there was the one thing that couldn't be. Leon would have to be a half brother. My mom said that she was pregnant by her ex husband, not my dad.

"That can't be," I said. "My brother isn't from my dad's side of the family. He was her ex husband's."

Hilda looked at me for a moment. "I do not wish to upset you, but she lied. Leon is your father's son."

"This could be real?" Leon asked me. "You knew you have a brother."

"My mother said so," I said. "But she also said he was a half brother and she completely left out Cassie."

"I need air," Leon said. "I'm going for a walk." He left.

I looked at Hilda. "It's a lot to take in."

"Yes, but time is moving quickly," Hilda said. "You have to fulfill your destiny. It is the only way to your happiness."

"What do I do?" I snapped. "I don't know what to do."

"You have had the dream for many years, so I believe you know," she said. "You have to go to Connecticut. You cannot expect this man to find you. It is up to you. It always has been. You have been living in denial."

"Denial!" I exclaimed. "What do you mean by that?"

"Why did you marry Walter?" Hilda snapped.

"I don't know," I snapped.

"I will tell you why," she scoffed. "You married that schmuck because he asked you to."

Tears welled up in my eyes. She was right, and the truth hurt.

"You did not know what you wanted. Now you do. Many men want you. You are aware of that. There are many more like them, but you have to find him. You know what you are looking for, and you know where you need to be. You are running out of time. That Super Bowl is coming, and it is a sign. If you do not get it straight by the end of that year, it may never happen."

"This all sounds crazy," I said. "The Packers winning the Super Bowl? Right there the odds get crazy. Do you have any idea how bad that team is? Besides, I don't know where anything in my dream is. All I know is that it's in Connecticut."

"So go and find it," she snapped. "Do you want to be happy?"

"Yes," I sniffed.

"Go. Move," Hilda said. "Look for your place in the world. Look for your man. It is all up to you."

"No prophetic, mystical clues?" I snarked.

"I told you, before you turn 33," she fired back. "Do you not want the destiny dream to stop?"

"Yes."

"It will not stop unless you find your path," she said.

"Is that all you see?" I asked. "I need all the help I can get."

"There is only one other clue I can give you, and it is a dangerous piece of information," Hilda said. "I do not know if I should tell you."

"Please," I insisted.

"A madman will lead you to the man in your dream," she replied. "That is it. That is all I see."

Leon walked in through the door and joined us at the table. "Sorry, that was a lot to absorb." He turned to me. "I always wanted to know about my family. While your family is unbelievable, and makes my skin crawl; I'm so happy that you're my sister." He gave me a big hug.

"Really?" I replied.

"What am I always saying?" he asked. "I always say that if I had a sister, I would want her to be just like you."

Leon did say that a lot.

"Well, your sister is just like me," I said.

"I know," he replied. "I was shocked, but once I thought about it for a second, I realized I couldn't be happier."

I smiled. I'd met all my family now. I felt complete. I still wasn't thrilled with my parents, but I'd made peace with Cassie, I'd met my grandma's twin, and now I knew who my brother was. My brother was my best friend.

"Me either," I said. "If I was able to choose my brother, I would have chosen you."

He hugged me again. "Good," he replied. "Now, what else do we have to do?"

"I have to solve this dream," I said.

"How do we do that?" Leon asked.

"I have roughly six years to search—what half of New England—for a tall blonde guy that I've never seen, in a place I can't remember where it is. Oh yes, and a madman will lead me to him. That clears it all up. No problem."

"A madman?" Leon asked.

"I am sorry I cannot be of more help," Hilda apologized. "I can only tell you what I see."

"I know," I said. "I guess it's time for me to get started. I'll move, I'll find a madman, reservoirs, and a guy."

"Your grandma wanted you to be happy," Hilda said. "She loved you more than anyone. We both know that you have to follow your dream."

Hilda apparently knew that grandma was my weak spot. I would do anything for grandma. I sat silently and thought for a moment. I looked at Leon.

"I guess I'm moving to Connecticut," I announced.

Leon and I stayed with Hilda for two days. She told us the things that I didn't know about grandma and their childhood in Hungary. She told us how our grandparents met, and about how they had immigrated to America. She said that my grandma had gone to classes to rid herself of her accent, so that she would fit in. I never knew that grandma was from Hungary, spoke Hungarian, or had ever had an accent or a twin. We learned a lot about our family during that two day visit.

I felt better after my visit with Hilda. I had validation for a lot of my feelings. It was therapeutic for me and for Leon. We were angry with our parents, but at least we knew what we were angry about. Leon and I couldn't wait to talk to Cassie and tell her everything about our family. We promised that we would all get together, but that we would never tell our parents. We didn't want anything to do with them. I wasn't sure at that point, that I would ever talk to them again.

Hilda had never married and had no children. Settling down hadn't been her style, because there was too much compromise involved. She was too independent to marry, and have a family. Hilda said that she'd never dreamed about her own future. She'd only dreamt about everyone else's.

I'd come a long way in my life. I'd grown into a confident and well traveled woman who knew her own mind and was working toward her own future. Now that I'd finally learned about my past, I could deal with it and move ahead. Hilda had given me the greatest gift I'd ever had. She not only told me all the things that I needed to know, but she gave me a brother. Leon was my biological brother. It didn't get better than that.

I felt totally free for the first time since that road trip to Connecticut. I hadn't felt that free since it all started so many years ago. It was ironic how, in many ways, my life had come full circle.

"There's only one thing that I still don't get," Leon said after listening to me jabber for hours on the flight home.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Where did you get all your money?" Leon asked. "You said your ex's money was actually his family's money, so you couldn't have gotten it in a settlement, so where did it come from?"

"My money comes from pineapple," I said.

Leon scowled at me. "What?"

"Walter's grandmother gave me a diamond that was shaped like a pineapple," I said. "She didn't want me to ever worry about money. When I left him, I sold it. It was worth a fortune. I didn't take a dime in the divorce."

"So, you're rich?" Leon asked.

"Filthy, stinking," I replied.

I arrived at my apartment late that night. It was good to be home. I actually felt good. It was too late for any more running around, so Leon sacked out in my spare room. I was out as soon as I laid my head on the pillow.

The destiny dream was back. The song, the angel pin, the reservoirs, the man, the dance, the place, the occasion, the ring, and the bark of a little dog. Even Hilda hadn't mentioned the barking dog.

When I woke in the middle of the night to knocking at my front door; I knew it could only mean one thing. The only person who ever bugged me in the middle of the night and interrupted that damn dream was Dr. Max.

I opened the door. "What is it Dr. Max?"

"Were you expecting me?" he replied.

"You're the only person who comes to my house when I'm sleeping," I groaned. "It was an educated guess."

"I had to wait to yell at you until you came back from Hungary," he said. "What did you think you were doing?"

"I went to see Hilda," I said.

"Hilda?" he sounded surprised. "You mean the gypsy psychic that you're always talking about?"

"Yes," I replied.

"You should have contacted me first," he scolded. "The CIA has been keeping an eye on you ever since you didn't bring that videotape home from Europe."

"Watching me?" I asked. "Do any of you even know who Hilda is?"

"No, and none of us really cares," he replied. "The agency doesn't want you in Europe, unless you give them advance notice. They don't want you in Germany ever. They don't want me to use you as my translator anymore. I came by to tell you that I have been ordered to find a new translator. You have been deemed a security risk."

"Hilda is my grandma's twin sister," I snapped. "It was a family visit. I'm moving away soon anyway."

"Really?" he said. "That's great. Let me know if there's anything I can help you with. And don't forget to say good-bye before you leave."

"Thanks Dr. Max," I said. "I'm gonna miss you. You've made life more interesting."

"I like how you put that," he said. "When Leon gets up, tell him I want to talk to him too. Will he be going with you?"

I smiled. He thought we were a couple. "No, Leon and I aren't a couple. Turns out he's my long lost brother."

"That explains a lot," Dr. Max said. "I'll be damned."

"I'll have him call in the morning," I replied, smiling.

I gave Dr. Max a big hug, and then he left. I really would miss him. He'd helped me become the woman that I wanted to be. He'd taught me more than any other single person in my life. He'd been like a dad to me and Leon--me and my brother.

The Destiny Dream
Part XLV

"I feel like in a way I'm starting over, with everything."

-Shania Twain

Memorial Day was moving day. It was time for me to set out on my greatest adventure. I transferred schools to Central Connecticut State University in New Britain, Connecticut. Ahead of me lay new friends, school, a career, and the final pieces of the puzzle that was my dream. I was ready to fulfill what was determined was my destiny. I'd tried to ignore it, change it, and walk away from it. Hilda was the final straw. I had to go off into the unknown and find the answers.

Leon, now known as my brother, helped me make all the arrangements. He and I flew back and forth finding an apartment, preparing me for school, and getting to know the area a little better. Anne and John were surprised to hear that Leon was my brother. I had told them the stories of the lost family, so they understood how much it meant to us to have found each other. Anne was happy that she didn't live in Indiana with the weirdo side of the family.

Each time Leon and I went to Connecticut to take care of some moving business, Anne and John took us out to help me get better acquainted with the area. It was extremely different from Indiana. The roads were not straight. The people weren't as friendly and outgoing. I knew that it would be a challenge to assimilate to the very different environment that was New England.

Before I left, I spent a week saying good bye to my friends. I'd spent my whole life in the tiny town of North Manchester, and I had such good friends there. I was going to miss all of them when I moved.

One of the first people that I went to say good bye to was Paula. We talked about old times and the times that we'd spent trying to figure out my dream. We talked about the day that I first heard "Father Figure" on the radio. We'd spent years hanging out together, and it was coming to an end. She wasn't alone. She'd moved in with her man, but wouldn't marry him.

"Nathan seems like a good guy," I told Paula.

"He is, but so was Trent before I got pregnant," Paula replied.

"He's not Trent," I said. "You need to get that through your head. Trent never wanted to get married. He uses women. He's a dead beat dad to more than just Glen. He spawns and moves on. Nathan seems like the real deal to me."

"How can I know?" she asked.

"I once dated a guy that told me a lot of shit," I explained. "He told a lot of shit to a lot of girls. He left me in a mess. That was Stewart. You know what my grandma told me?"

"What?" Paula asked.

"After all that BS I went through, one year later, he got married," I explained. "I asked my grandma why her and not me. He said he didn't believe in marriage, used me, and a year later he was married. Why? She said, 'Child, learn this right now. When a guy says he doesn't believe in marriage, it's a lie. It just means he doesn't want to marry you.'"

"And?" Paula asked.

"Nathan wants to marry you," I said.

"When did you get so wise?" Paula asked.

"Probably while I was asleep," I replied.

"Guess I'm saying yes," she said.

"Let me know when, so I can come and stand up with you," I told her.

"You'd better," she ordered.

I said my good-bye to Bop. He seemed happy with Paula and her family. I think it was the best thing for him. It was certainly the most magnanimous gesture I ever made. I hated that I would never see that dog again. He was very special to me.

I went to say good bye to Lauren, who was teetering on the edge of divorce. The poor thing was in a miserable marriage. Her husband was a letch who did nothing but drink, stay out all night and cheat on her. They had no money, because he spent it all while he was out carousing. Lauren had two small kids to think about, and needed to move cautiously to take care of them.

"I'm just a phone call away," I told Lauren.

"I'll be fine," she assured me. "I'm stuck for now. I'll make it right. I just have to figure out how."

"I know people. I bet I could make him disappear," I offered. "I know some sketchy people."

"I know you do," Lauren replied. "I've met some of them. I probably need to borrow your lawyer."

"I'll call him," I offered. "Just say the word. Jake will take care of it. I won't even let him charge you."

"I may take you up on that," Lauren said.

"I'll come out and help you move," I said. "Just call me."

"I will," Lauren said.

I called Jake after I left her. He offered to take care of her divorce for free.

I said good-bye to Dr. Max at the Manchester College graduation ceremony. I caught up with him after the ceremony and his speech to all the new grads going out into the world.

"That was some speech," I said.

"It's a little different from the one I normally give," Dr. Max said. "The last couple of years have made me see the world a little differently."

"Me too," I replied. "I'm leaving soon. I have to seize the day."

"Yes, you do," he agreed. "I'll miss you. You've been like another daughter to me."

"You've made a pretty good stand in dad," I said. "You've taught me more than anyone. I won't forget that. I wouldn't be able to strike out on my own if I hadn't learned how to navigate the world from you."

"Thanks," he said smiling.

I gave him a big hug. "I have to go."

Dr. Max kissed me on the top of my head and hugged me. "I know."

I knew I wouldn't see Dr. Max again. Our paths had crossed for a reason, but it was time to go our own ways. He made me wise. I'll never forget him for that. Because of him I got to be in the middle of history as it happened. Most people can't say that. I can say that I'm not famous, I'm no longer married to a rich man, but I've led an extraordinary life. Thanks Dr. Max.

I knew I would see my family from time to time, so saying good bye to my parents wasn't as difficult as other good byes I had to say that weekend. You can't get rid of family that easily, and I knew that my family would haunt me forever.

The night before I left I went to say good bye to Josh. I'd known him since we were three years old. He was my first love. We'd been through more together than I had weathered with anyone else I knew.

Josh smiled when he answered his door. "I hoped you'd come by."

"I couldn't leave without saying good bye to you," I replied.

We went to his living room and sat down on the sofa. He got us a couple of beers and we sat and watched an old movie on TV. Neither one of us said much for a while.

Right before the end of the movie, during a commercial break, Josh turned to me. "You know I love you."

"I know," I replied. "I think I've always known."

"You need to do this?" he asked.

"I really do," I replied.

"I won't stop you," Josh said. "But, if this doesn't work out, you can always come back. I will always be here."

"I know, but I'm not meant to be here," I said. "I don't belong. I feel that."

"You know that thing that your grandma said about men?" he asked. "That whole bit about men and marriage?"

"If a man tells you he doesn't believe in marriage it's a lie," I said. "It just means he doesn't want to marry you."

"That's not me," he said.

That was all we said about that. After the movie, I said my good byes, gave him a big hug and left.

Jake stopped by my place as I was getting ready to drive to New England. I'd wondered if he would say good bye. He was angry that I was leaving, even though he knew I had to go.

"I guess this big ass truck means it's time," Jake said as he walked up to me.

"It is," I said, trying not to cry. Jake had been my mensch for years. I always thought that maybe he should have been the guy in the dream. He certainly was one of the most wonderful men I've ever known.

"So, this is it," Jake said.

"You can come and visit me," I offered. "And I'll be back here for visits."

"Sure," he lied. "We'll keep in touch."

"Liar," I said, smiling. "Just make sure Lauren has a fair divorce."

"She hasn't called me," he said.

"She will," I told him.

Jake gave me a big hug, and helped me into the giant moving truck. He stood on the sidewalk as I pulled away and drove off to the next chapter of my life. I've never seen him again. He never answered my calls. He never answered my letters. I hope that someday, he can forgive me for leaving. I miss Jake.

Leon shut the back door of the truck and walked up to my door. "All right, you're ready to roll. I'm right behind you. Are you sure you wouldn't rather drive your car?"

"Probably," I said. "We'll switch somewhere in Pennsylvania."

"Whatever you say," Leon said. "You're in charge."

I was in charge. It was now my life, and I had to figure it out. It was time to solve the dream, finish school, and make a whole new life for myself. My parents watched and waved as I pulled away from my house. I watched them in the rear view mirror until I couldn't see them anymore at all.

And then I was gone. I didn't live in Indiana anymore.

The Destiny Dream
Part XLVI

"I learned early on the magic of life is having a vision, having faith, and then going for it."

-Elaine Welteroth

Assimilating to Connecticut wasn't easy. People there are as cold as the winters. Meeting people is easy, but making friends is tough. Anne and John helped me at first, but we grew apart. Our lives were too different. We'd grown in different directions as adults. They had their children and a business to run, and I was single again and in school. We didn't have much in common. I did go to their house for the holidays the first year that I lived there, but other than a few visits, we didn't get together.

I finished school, but didn't make friends there either. New England was a whole different world from what I was used to. I didn't understand the social climate there, but I was determined to make a life for myself, no matter what.

Dating was easy, but having a relationship was hard. I dated so many guys that I can't remember all of their names. The guys that I dated had a lot of baggage. Whether it was still being hung up on an ex, being a mama's boy, or just a general whack job; the men I met were noteworthy, and not in a good way.

I spent a lot of my time traveling the area, but I didn't find the reservoirs in the dream. The roads in New England were not straight like the ones in the Midwest. All the roads wound through the woods, and every time I went on a road trip, I accidentally ended up in Woonsocket, Rhode Island. I could find Woonsocket, but I couldn't find the reservoirs.

After three years of living in New Britain with the gangs and the gangsters, I moved. Directly after finishing college, I went to live in the hills of Western Connecticut. Torrington was a smaller city. It was quirky and had horribly designed intersections, but the people there seemed more real to me than the people I ran into in New Britain. I needed a little reality in my life at that time, and I needed a change. The city life with the gangs and the mobsters, wasn't for me. Torrington was close to the country. I was craving a little country in my life.

One of the reasons for my move was a man named Bruce. During my internship, I'd worked for a newspaper, and they'd paid me to join a video dating service. Bruce was the man that I'd met during that assignment. He seemed like he really had it all together. He had a career and a house and he was active. He liked it when I went places and did things with him. He taught me to spend time in the woods. We traveled around the area, hiking and biking. It was another point in my life where I thought that my dream was just a dream. I thought I'd found what I was looking for in Bruce.

Bruce lived in Torrington. I liked it in Torrington, so when he asked me to move in with him, it seemed like a no brainer. The move went well, and it wasn't long before I had a new friend, Bobbi. Bobbi was dating Jack, a friend of Bruce. Bruce and I hung out with Bobbi and Jack. Life was great.

By the end of summer, however, my life took yet another unexpected turn. Bruce began to act strangely. He turned from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde. I'd never actually been abused before that. I think that was why I was so confused. The first time he threatened to hit me, I was stunned. I had no idea how to handle it, so I did nothing. I thought maybe it was an isolated incident, because he'd always been good to me before that. The second time, I started to believe he might hurt me, or the little dog that I'd rescued right after I moved in with him. He said he loved me. I didn't know what to think.

A couple of months went by. I kept quiet about the threats. The threats continued. I felt like I had no control and felt trapped. I didn't say anything to Bobbi or Jack. I didn't reach out to anyone back in Indiana. I cried every night. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't believe that this was how my life was going to be. It was crazy, and so was Bruce.

It became all about what Bruce wanted. I was supposed to obey his every command or pay the consequences. My life was gone. I had to cook and clean for him, and he decided my every move. He wouldn't even let me watch football. The Packers had gone from bad to good, with the addition of Brett Favre, and I was missing it. My life had whittled away. Every little piece of my soul was stolen from me. I'd had that problem before.

One day in the fall, I was waiting for Bruce to get ready so we could go out with Jack and Bobbi for Bobbi's birthday. He came into the living room, where I was sitting quietly, ready to go on time. Out of the blue, he asked me to marry him. I stared at him.

"What?" I asked.

"I think we should get married," Bruce replied. "I'm up for it, but you will have to learn how to behave. You can't be a bitch like normal."

I snapped. "I can't do this."

I didn't care what he did to me. I got up and walked out.

"Where do you think you're going?" Bruce yelled after me.

"Home," I muttered.

I couldn't quit crying. It was over. I'd spent three years dealing with weird and vile people in the coldest place on Earth. I hadn't found my place in the world. I hadn't found any answers, or solved the dream. I wanted to go home. I'd had enough.

I got in my car with my little dog and left. I stopped down the street at a payphone and called the one person that I thought could rescue me.

"Leon?" I said, sobbing. "I can't take it here anymore. Please, come pick me up. I want to go home."

"What happened?" he asked. "Where are you?"

"I'm in Torrington," I sobbed. "I'm turning 30 in two weeks, and nothing's coming together. Bruce is nuts, and he's probably going to kill me. He's so abusive. I don't care about dreams, or prophecies anymore. Please, just meet me at the airport. I want to go home."

"Which airport?" Leon asked.

"Bradley. When can you be there?" I asked. "I don't know where this number you gave me is."

"I'm in Washington, so a couple of hours," Leon answered.

"I'll see you there," I replied. "I owe you one."

"That's what big brothers are for," Leon said. "I'm bringing a baseball bat for that son of a bitch, Bruce too."

"Don't bother," I said. "He's not worth it."

My adventure was over. My little Shitzu sat next to me in my car. We each had a bag, because I'd kept some things in the trunk for a while. I was uneasy in the relationship for weeks and had made sure I could get away. It was time. I would worry about collecting the rest of my things after I got away. I'd spent years wasting my time, trying to figure out a stupid dream that meant nothing. That dream had brought nothing but frustration and heartache and loneliness, and distraction. No more. I was done. Nothing could change my mind.

I'd never driven to the airport from Torrington, so I had no idea where I was going or how long of a drive it was. Where I worked, people traveled a lot to various locations for the business. I'd heard that there was a back roads route to the airport that was way shorter than driving through Hartford, which could take hours for all I knew. I'd never driven in any way to the airport from Torrington. The directions were easy. Drive to Winsted, get on Route 44, and follow the signs.

I cried and cried. It was difficult to drive, because I couldn't see through my tears. I had to pull over again and again to dry my eyes and collect myself. My dog wagged his tail to cheer me up. He was my best friend in New England. My life and hopes were disintegrating. Twelve years had passed since I'd first had my dream. So much time and so much of my life was devoted to unraveling that dream. So many things had happened because of that dream. Now it was over. What a waste of twelve years.

Why couldn't I get it right? What if the problem was me? My own parents said that I was impossible. I was lonesome even when I had a boyfriend. I'd been on my own for years. Maybe I was meant to be alone. Maybe having a husband and a family were just dreams.

I followed Route 8 to Winsted. The leaves were changing on the trees. It was peak foliage in our region. The hills were ablaze with fall color. Fall was my favorite season in New England. The reds, oranges, yellows, and maroons made the most marvelous landscapes. For a short time each year, I felt as though I lived in a postcard. Even the foliage made me cry. Indiana had very few trees. Fall wasn't nearly the fiery show that it was in New England. I would probably never see that wonderful side of Mother Nature again, and that broke my heart.

There was a sign pointing to the airport via Winsted. I turned onto Route 44. I came to a blinking yellow light at Route 318. The sign for Bradley International Airport pointed left . The red ring that Hilda had given me as a clue caught my eye on my right hand. That made me cry more.

I'd failed. I'd come to believe that the destiny dream was my own personal prophecy. People around me, after years of nagging, had convinced me that the dream was real. I was a fool. The clues were not signs, the prophecy was a coincidence, and destiny was something made up to explain stupid dreams. I must have been nuts to have ever entertained such a crazy idea.

The road grew narrower, and it was winding downhill through a thick wooded area. I passed through the intersection in the center of Barkhamsted. I drove across a big old steel bridge. The sign said "Bradley International Airport 12 miles". The arrow pointed straight ahead.

My life would be mundane for the rest of time. I knew there would be no more adventures for me. I would probably marry Jake and settle down forever. I would learn to like the security that came with marriage. At least I would feel safe and loved. I'd worked so hard to become a strong woman, and one abusive madman had come along and scared all of the self confidence right out of me. I was running back home where it was safe. I cried more. I was angry and hurt and not thinking clearly.

The road wound uphill past a farm, a firehouse, and several homes. A road extended to my right. "Bradley International Airport—Granby". The arrow pointed right.

I drove down a monstrous hill and right back up the other side. I had to stop thinking about my failures. I turned on the radio. The dog started to whine and do a little light barking. He didn't like my radio. I've never understood why. I let him carry on. I needed a diversion so I could quit thinking. That idea was hopeless, because the first thing that I heard on the radio was "Father Figure". Hearing that song made me angry. I cried more.

I crested the second hill and drove down through the dense woods. I drove around a curve. I saw sunlight through the trees. A clearing was ahead.

I changed the station on the radio. "Father Figure" was playing on that station too. I couldn't stop thinking. I couldn't escape that ridiculous song. I hated my life. I hated myself.

I drove out of the forest, into a wide open space. I looked out my windshield below my sun visor with the guardian angel pin on it. I slammed on my brakes with all my might. My Beretta skidded to a stop in the middle of the road. I threw it into park and got out of the car. I stood in the middle of the road and stared at everything around me. I thought I was dreaming. The hills, the trees, the water, the stone wall, and the stone pump house.

I'd finally found the reservoirs. I was standing right in between them on the road that I'd traveled twelve years before.

The Destiny Dream
Part XLVII

"I'm not somebody that thinks about destiny and fate, but I don't walk away from it when something unfolds."

-Angelina Jolie

Cars were honking at me. I jumped into my car and pulled off into a small parking area. "Father Figure" finished playing on my radio. The leaves on the hillsides were fiery bright with fall foliage. The sky was bright blue. This was the exact picture that I'd seen in my dream. My dog was the barking dog. It was real. I knew I had to stay and see it through.

I threw my car into drive again and floored it back onto the road, squealing tires all the way. I drove like a crazy woman all the way to the airport. I had to talk to Leon, and he would be there soon. I carried my dog with me, and no one said a word to me about it. I ran from counter to counter until someone directed me to Leon's gate. I walked to the gate area as fast as I could.

I needed a phone. I wasn't sure, but I felt that night was the night, which meant that I could not miss dinner with Jack and Bobbi. I found a pay phone and told the girl talking on it to get the hell off, so I could use it. I called Bobbi.

"Sandy, what the hell is going on?" Bobbi asked.

"I can't talk right now, but I wanted to let you know that I will be at dinner," I told her. "I had an emergency, and I'm running a little late."

"Bruce called and cancelled," Bobbi said. "He said you went insane."

"He's insane, and I left him," I announced. "But, I will be there. I have so much to tell you."

"I guess," she replied. "Are you okay?"

"I'm better than I've been in a while," I told her. "I'll see you in a couple of hours. I have someone I want you guys to meet."

"Who?" she asked.

"My brother."

I stood at the gate with my dog, watching the traffic on the runway. Soon, I saw Leon's plane glide down from the clouds and taxi to the gate. Leon was always there for me. He was a good brother and my closest friend anywhere. I didn't know what he would say when I told him I'd changed my mind about moving home since I'd called him.

He came to the door next to the jet way at the gate. He grinned from ear to ear the way he did every time he saw me. He ran to me and picked me up to hug me, dog and all.

"God, you look gorgeous!" Leon exclaimed. "I've missed you!"

"Thanks," I replied.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "Are you positive you want to go back home? All the destiny dreams in the world aside, you hate it there."

I took a deep breath, and I directed him to some hard plastic airport seats. "Sit. I'll try to explain."

"Okay," he muttered.

"Don't kill me, but I changed my mind. I have to stay," I said.

"You scared the hell out of me!" he exclaimed. "I flew here on a Friday night. I left Dr. Max stuck in Washington, and for what? A joy ride? I love seeing you, sis, but this is crazy."

"Look, Bruce is a real jerk, and I'm done with him," I said. "I was running away from him. That's why I called you."

"Okay, but why did you change your mind?" Leon asked.

"He's the madman," I said. "The one that Hilda told us about."

"What?" Leon snapped.

"It's true!" I exclaimed.

He rubbed his eyes. "What the hell makes you think that some asshole, who needs his ass kicked, is part of the whole destiny thing?"

"Because of him, I ran away to the airport, and he introduced me to Jack and Bobbi," I explained. "I believe that if I stay and go out to dinner with Jack and Bobbi like I was supposed to, I will meet the man in my dream. Tonight is the night."

"Why on Earth would you think that?" Leon asked.

"I found the reservoirs," I announced. "They're on the road to the airport. I drove out of the woods on my way here, and there they were. It looked exactly the way that it appeared in my dream. It's fall, like in my dream. The leaves are bright colored, like in my dream. The sky is blue, like in my dream."

"Have you ever heard of coincidence?" he asked.

"That was no coincidence," I insisted. "It's fall, and my boyfriend is the madman. The red ring, the angel pin, the barking dog. Bruce is nuts, believe me. He's Hilda's madman. Every time I give up on this destiny thing, something happens that makes me believe in it again. It's not a coincidence, it's a sign."

Leon looked at me blankly.

"'Father Figure' was playing on the radio at the time," I continued. I pointed at my dog. "He was the barking dog in my dream. 'Father Figure' was on two radio stations at the same time."

"Seriously?" he exclaimed.

"Yes," I said. "It's a sign. I'm so close. I have to stay. Please understand."

"Hell, even I can't argue with that," he said. "You're right. It has to be a sign."

"I knew you would understand," I said. "Are you mad at me?"

"No," he said.

"Go with me tonight," I said.

"Dr. Max is stuck in Washington," Leon announced.

"So?" I replied.

"You're right," he said. "He'll be fine. I'm already here. You know I can't say no to you. When do we have to meet these people?"

"As soon as we can," I replied. "Because of all this, I'm late."

"Okay, but you need to tell me where to find your madman, so I can kick his ass," Leon said. "I need to kick his ass. That's the deal, or I'm getting right back on my plane."

I sighed and rolled my eyes at him. "Just be charming and help me meet the man of my dreams."

"Fine," he said.

We shook hands and left to go out to dinner. Tonight was the night. It was my night. I'd waited for this for twelve years. My destiny dream was about come true.

On the way back to town, I stopped at the reservoirs.

Leon got out of my car and took a long look around. "It's funny. It's exactly how I pictured it from the things that you told me."

"It's been living in my head for years," I sighed. "It's only twenty minutes to my house from here. Can you imagine? All that time running all over the state and all over New England, and it was right up the road?" I looked up at the sky and back to Leon. "There has to be a reason why I didn't find it until today. It's another sign."

We arrived at the restaurant later than I'd originally planned. The madman didn't show up, so we joined Jack and Bobbi at their table.

The Mariner Restaurant was a popular seafood restaurant in the Litchfield Hills area, but I had never been before. The front half of it was a bar, and the back half was the dining area. The inside was decorated like the inside of an old sailing ship.

I walked into the dining room with Leon. I stopped suddenly and grabbed him by the arm. "It has portholes for windows," I whispered to him. "It's the restaurant in my dream."

"This was in your dream?" he asked. "Have you been here before?"

I shook my head. "No, never."

Jack and Bobbi were facing the back of the room, so we startled them a little with our arrival. "Well, we made it," I said. "This is Leon."

"So, what happened?" Bobbi asked, once we were done with introductions. "Or shouldn't I ask?"

"It's okay," I told her. "That moron went too far this time, and I dumped his ass. I've had enough."

"Hallelujah!" Jack exclaimed. "He was no good for you."

"I know. It's over. Good riddance to bad baggage, I say," I said.

We held our water glasses up and had a toast to celebrate my liberation.

"So, Leon is?" Bobbi asked.

"My Brother," I said.

We chatted for a few minutes. Leon told them about how he taught me to fly, and how he'd come to save me and found out I was fine. He said I was the best sister a guy could have and that he wished that he'd known sooner. He also said that he was glad that he'd gotten to know me and that I was his favorite member of the family. I listened and smiled.

Somewhere between Leon's stories, and Bobbi's work tales, I drifted away. I was thinking of all the times I'd had the destiny dream. Years of being tortured by that song. Years of wondering what it was all about. Something was going to happen that night. I knew it.

I saw the door to the bar open. I had a perfect view of the entrance door from our table. My heart skipped a beat, the color drained from my face, and suddenly, I couldn't breathe. I recognized him immediately, when he walked in the door. I'd seen his face a thousand times, and now I knew what it actually looked like. It was the man in my destiny dream. He was tall, blonde, had broad shoulders, and blue eyes. I knew the minute that I saw him that I'd found the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with.

I grabbed Leon's arm. "Ouch!" he exclaimed. He followed my gaze, and saw who I was looking at. "Well, I'll be damned."

"Sandy, are you all right?" Bobbi said. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I blinked hard, trying to focus on her. "I'm fine."

When I glanced away from Bobbi, I jerked, startled to see the blonde man sitting at the end of our table.

He had a sparkle in his eyes and a smirk on his face. "Hi, I'm Ben. You must be Bobbi's friend, Sandy," he said, reaching his hand out to shake mine.

I shook his hand. I could see it on his face when our hands joined. He knew it too.

"Nice to meet you," I said. "Ben was it?"

"Yes," he replied. "Ben Hansen."

"I've heard that name before," I said, trying to think where I'd heard it.

Leon grabbed my arm. "Wasn't that the name of the cop?" he asked.

"My dad was a State Trooper," Ben said. "I'm Ben Jr."

The Destiny Dream
Part XLVIII

"Anything is possible in this world. I really believe that."

-Liza Minnelli

Present Day

"Is that really how you met dad?" my daughter, Randi asked.

"You should have seen the look on her face, when he told her his name," Bobbi said. "Hell, you should have seen the look on her face when he walked in the door."

The three of us sat on the wall by the pump house over the reservoirs. It was fall again, and the leaves looked just as beautiful as the night that I'd met Ben. A lot of time had passed, and my daughter, Randi was starting to have a dream of her own.

"I wish I could tell you what your dream is about, or what started it," I said. "It took me years to figure mine out. It could have been anything. It could have simply been how beautiful this place was. It was summer the first time I came here. Everything was green and the sky was bright blue. Could have been the situation at the prison. Don't know."

"Grandpa Ben was the cop that you helped at the prison?" Randi asked.

"Yes, he was," I replied. "I had my dream for the first time that very night. I didn't see much until I came here and had the dream the second time. Grandpa Ben never forgot me. You should have seen the look on his face when your dad brought me home to meet him for the first time."

"He actually remembered you?" Randi asked.

"He did," I said. "He said I hadn't changed a bit."

"Does dad know all of this?" Randi asked.

"He doesn't like to believe it, but he has no explanation for it," I said. "I never wanted to believe it either, but I ran out of options."

"How long did it take you and dad to get married?" Randi asked.

"Forever," Bobbi groaned. "These two went round and round for a while. Then, one day, he asked her to marry him and never looked back."

"Out of the blue?" Randi asked.

"Out of the blue," Bobbi said.

"No," I scoffed. "After the Packers won the Super Bowl in 97, he quit fighting the dream and proposed."

"Is that what happened?" Bobbi asked.

"Just like Hilda said," Randi gasped.

"That's right," I said. "I was 32 at the time."

"Wow," Randi said. "Intense."

"I'd accepted it all by that time," I said. "I called your Uncle Leon, and your dad and I got married at the Mariner Restaurant."

"The dream," Randi said.

"You bet," I said. "Everything came true right down to us dancing to 'Father Figure' that night after dinner. There may be no such thing as prince charming, because your dad is not a prince or charming; but dreams do come true. I love that man, no matter what. I knew it from the second I saw him. I knew it would last a lifetime."

"Are you really glad you followed the dream?" Randi asked. "I mean, dad has spent most of my life at work. You've barely gone anywhere or done anything. What about the travel and the adventure?"

"I don't know," I said. "I loved the adventure. It took me almost 20 years to reinstate my privileges to travel in Germany after my blowout with the agency. I don't know. I never look back. That part of my life ended. I love your dad. I love our time together. I had you kids. I've been happy most of the time."

"Why haven't you ever traveled with your books?" Randi asked. "You're famous for your books about dreams. You could lecture and do book signings. You have fans that surely, would love to meet you. You don't have to spend all your time in your office or on campus."

I looked out over the reservoirs. My house was over my shoulder on top of the hill, with the most beautiful view on Earth. The reservoirs was my happy place, and for many years, I hadn't thought about going far from home. I'd always wanted a loving family, and I had one. I'd known for a long time, that dreams are a powerful medium. Dream Psychology was a tricky field, but I had gotten my PhD and concentrated on dream analysis. I'd taught Psychology 101 and a couple of other classes for years at the local community college. It was a far cry from my escapades in Europe. Earlier in life I traveled to find out how the world worked, and later in life I had focused on how the mind worked.

"Things change," I said. "I've always looked for answers. Only the locations have changed."

"Do you have the answers now?" Randi asked.

"No," I said. "There are always more questions than answers. No matter how hard you try, you never have all the answers."

"Have you ever had another dream like that?" Randi asked.

"I think that only happens once in a lifetime," I replied. "I certainly hope so. Those dreams are a lot of work to sort out."

"Then what should I do about my dream?" Randi asked. "I don't have time to spend on trying to analyze everything in my head, and I have no idea what anything in my dream really is."

"Pay attention and follow the signs," I said. "There are signs everywhere. You can't fight it. It's your future. You're having a Destiny Dream."

About the Author

Terri Dixon is the online writer, blogger, and photographer; Nina Kindred "The Destiny Dream is her third full length novel. She is also the author of "The Ring of the Queen" and "The Queen in Exile" (The Lost Tsar Trilogy Books I & II).

All of Terri's books are available in multiple formats online. Terri is a Good Reads, Smashwords, I Author, Inkitt, and FictionPress author. Her photography is available on Pixels, Cafepress, and Zazzle.

When Terri is not writing or shuttering as herself or Nina, she is working many jobs and spending time with her husband, son, and tempestuous kitty in Northwest Connecticut.

