Oh, Shit. It's happening again.

A soft female voice speaks.. “Wake up, Mattius. It is happening again.”

*Tap tap tap* 

“Is thing on? Are we live? Are we recording?”

“Wait. Who the fuck are you? Where the fuck am I? What the fuck is..?”

“God damnit. I’m dreaming again, aren’t I? Fucking fucksticks.”

“Ah, well.”

I took a look around. I was laying in a feather bed (No. In the shallow end of a warm lake. No. In  a bathtub made of white porcelain with iron claws for feet. No. I was standing in the shower.)

Looking at myself in the water (No. In the mirror) I took. moment to reflect upon myself. 

(Ha!)

I was either 17, or 19, or just past 400. Somewhere between 6’1 and 6’8 at the moment. I had to brush long black hair out of my face to see. It reaches my mid-back on a good day and even covers most of the scars back there. Normally the blue and purple distract anyone from looking too much elsewhere. If I focus REALLY hard, I can even make the streaks of color in my hair stop changing places and shifting around. For a second. 

I looked deep into my own Hazel (No. Red. No. Midnight Blue. NO. Grey.) eyes, and wondered. I enjoy my body in general. No six-pack, ever. I went from rail thin to fit to a little tummy. The stories written on my arms (They just call them scars here) never fade no matter how much make-up (Glamour) I use on them. 

A warm breeze comes and dries me off. Lifts my hair and untangles it gently. I smile and thank it. The torn blue jeans come next. Ankle socks and black combat (Jungle) boots. A white long-sleeve button-up shirt tucked in, collar down, sleeves rolled to mid-forearm. (Jesus. So many hyphens) Lastly come the necklaces and then the long black trench coat. (I know, Harry's is brown. So is Malcolm's. Sue me. It's a London Fog.)

A quick flip and I catch a Sampoerna in my mouth, and light it with a finger tip. 

I rub my left ring finger, frown, and then the ring is there. Like always. Like. Fucking. Always. 

Now, Why did I hear her voice, why haven't I yet heard HIS voice, and do I have to wake up?

Goddamnit. Is it really happening again?

A space opens up. It's dark on the other side. I step through, and it closes. I take another step, and run face-first into something. 

“Ouch. Goddamnit. Time to make a phone call. 

“

I pulled out my cell phone, and hit #,#,Moebius.