I'm sick. Real sick. This is a dream entry. It will be choppy - but it's important. Dream one: I'm in this shaded room - with curtains over the windows. I'm lying in a bed - and I'm not allowed to leave it. I know that people want me to sleep. But I want to get out. My third eye was working overtime. I kept having flashes. Lots of people died. There was an old man, with semi-long grey hair ... -he- killed him ... in a dusty place. I don't know how -he- killed the man, but the man died. There was a woman, with blonde hair done like in the 1920's ... she was driving a nice car. She died, too. I forget how. There were a group of guards - half a dozen - standing in this fort place. Sunshine. Dusty. Looks desert-like - and these three men come from the sky with guns, and shoot at them. Three are dead. There are three guards left and three flying men left - they're still in the sky - and suddenly, the flying men shoot at the others - but miss them just barely, then go away. The guards are amazed that they survived - but then one of them goes through angles with his gun and realizes that from the angle the other men had been shooting from, there is no possible way that they could have missed them unless it was on purpose ... Then I flash back to myself, in the room. A man is brought in and placed on the floor at the foot of my bed. I pretend to be asleep. They leave. And there's this girl - who has dark skin ... kind of like Mexican or ... Selma Hayek or ... something - she's very pretty. She's carrying this bowl of some sort of herbal concoction that has Rue in it. It's to keep someone away - or someone in - and she accidently spills a bit of it at the door. She tries to clean it up, then walks out. And I get out of the bed and stare at the floor where that happened. I open the door and try to get out, but I can't. It's not like there's a forcefield or anything, I just can't ... I can't find the will to leave. I curl back up on the bed, and I just keep glancing at the guy on the floor. He's there for a reason. I don't know what. I think he was brought in to help me. I don't know. I hear a voice from somewhere - but it's not his voice, I can tell. The voice tells me to go to sleep, but I keep casting glances to the man on the floor. He's wearing dark clothes. He has black hair. And for some reason, though the man is unconscious, I know he has gold eyes - he's familiar. I don't know how I know him, but I know I do, from somewhere - in the dream it was like trying to recall a memory of something that's right on the tip of your tongue ... I know his name has three syllables. I know it starts with an "s" ... I just keep glancing at him, and then finally I scoot to the edge of the bed and put my blanket over him - it's a white blanket - even though this makes me a little cold ... and I just lie there on my side, on the edge of the bed, staring at him. I wake up. Second dream: This is ... important. I'm lying in bed again. I feel as if I've been asleep for a while. I don't really want to wake up, but something is pulling me to wake up. I feel ... hot for some reason - but then I feel a cool hand on my cheek. And I open my eyes - and it's the man from before. He's sitting next to me, staring at me with those gold eyes of his. He looks to be in his early to mid-thirties, has a little grey in his hair. He feels so very ... familiar. He speaks softly, it's barely above a whisper ... he ... talks like I do. I like his cool hands because I just feel so hot ... And he strokes my hair as I sit up. I stare at him - I want to know who he is. He speaks to me again, as though he can read my mind. "You don't remember me?" And I just stare at him - I have this "I'm sorry" look in my eyes, I know I do, because I want to remember who he is - and it's killing me. And he holds my face in his hands, just ... touching my face, staring into my eyes - making me stare into his eyes and he says to me ... "I've been searching for you for three years. You've grown up so much, my little Kolibri." That's when I became aware - when the dream became lucid - because he said "kolibri" - the German word for hummingbird. And I get this flash - of him standing behind me ... like a teacher ... but I'm younger - maybe ten - and I'm staring at this metal ... thing - and I can remember wanting to make it cave in - then I flash back. I start shaking - my breath is shaking. My mind is screaming "who are you?" and "who am I?" But he answers me, though I say nothing. "Sonata." I lift my hands very slowly, I'm hesitant - I touch his face and he holds my wrists. I stare longer into his eyes. I know him ... he was my ... teacher ... mentor ... something. He took care of me ... but ... it's so hard to remember ... so hard. I want him to hold me and I just ... fall into him. He wraps his arms around me; I bury my face into his shoulder. He says "I used to carry you on these shoulders ... once upon a time ..." I feel so close to him ... so close ... but I don't know why, and I'm hating myself and scouring my memory trying to figure out where I know him - but he just rubs my back very gently and whispers "Don't hate yourself, Kolibri ... you will remember ... I'm here now. I'm with you. I've missed you." Then I wake up.