“Dr. Christoph, Dr. Christoph,” someone is shaking my arm.
I stretch, letting out a little groan. Blinking, I see Dr. Agonson at my side, raising a quizzical eyebrow.
“What is it, Sheldon?” I ask, trying to stifle a yawn.
“You said I could borrow your copy of ‘Reflections of the Mind.’ I’m sorry to wake you, but I couldn’t find it.”
“Oh! Yes, sorry. I have it here. Pulled it out for you.” Moving some papers around on my desk, I find it under a pile of letters. He takes it greedily.
“Thank you, Doctor. This will help with my research.”
“You’re still studying dreams?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“You might be interested in mine,” I laugh.
“Were you dreaming just now?”
“Yes,” I admit.
“I’m sorry I woke you. What were you dreaming?”
“I had been murdered, I think, and I was investigating, but I was also…I think I was also the killer, or the killer was telling me I was the killer, or something. And there was, I wish I could draw it for you. There was this black stone, and it was cupped and full of water. Ancient pagans used to catch the blood of their sacrifices in there, or something. It was all very interesting, in the moment, but it doesn’t make much sense now that I’m trying to explain it all to you.”
Tale Told 