You’re dead,” I repeated. “So why are you in my dream?”He raised the bill of his olive drab ball cap with one finger. ” Good question. Morbid, isn’t it?””What?””Dreaming about dead peolpe. Creepy. You ever see a therapist about that?””I’m not -” Even in dreams, I couldn’t win an argument. Even when he was dead.

I didn’t bring you here,” he said. “You think you’re Miss Special Destiny of the year?””No,” I shot back, furious. “And I don’t damn well want to be – whatever the hell you are. But sometimes there isn’t a choice. Right?””Careful. You might accidentally make some sense. Ruin your reputation.””You are infuriating!””Yep,” he agreed. “It’s...