Friday night, every reincarnate in NYC has the same dream.
It starts off with an explosion of green light. Red crystals come shooting up from the ground, breaking the asphalt and sidewalks; it hums with life. The sky is torn in two, rent by a strange green gash.
And falling from that tear in the sky is a young man--Aaron Kelly.
He crashes to earth with another shower of green sparks, and the whole world seems to ripple around him. When he staggers up, green light is being cast from his hand, and you sense a palpable power around him...as well as a certainty that if you need something, need it badly, he may be able to help. At least, he will try.
The dream shifts.
It's cold. The landscape is dark and frozen, ground cracking beneath your feet. There's a soft hum, followed by a discordant buzzing. When you turn, there's a boy standing there. He's wearing smugglers' clothes and a blaster, black robe pulled on top. In his hands is a red light sabre.
"It isn't supposed to happen this way," he says. When he holds out his hand, the ground shakes beneath your feet. "You're not supposed to come to me." And yet there's a rightness to being here, too--and you know somehow that if you come to him for help, he will be able to give it...if you can convince him.
When you wake, you remember every detail of the strange dream--and keep with you the conviction that there is help out there if you only need it badly enough.
It starts off with an explosion of green light. Red crystals come shooting up from the ground, breaking the asphalt and sidewalks; it hums with life. The sky is torn in two, rent by a strange green gash.
And falling from that tear in the sky is a young man--Aaron Kelly.
He crashes to earth with another shower of green sparks, and the whole world seems to ripple around him. When he staggers up, green light is being cast from his hand, and you sense a palpable power around him...as well as a certainty that if you need something, need it badly, he may be able to help. At least, he will try.
The dream shifts.
It's cold. The landscape is dark and frozen, ground cracking beneath your feet. There's a soft hum, followed by a discordant buzzing. When you turn, there's a boy standing there. He's wearing smugglers' clothes and a blaster, black robe pulled on top. In his hands is a red light sabre.
"It isn't supposed to happen this way," he says. When he holds out his hand, the ground shakes beneath your feet. "You're not supposed to come to me." And yet there's a rightness to being here, too--and you know somehow that if you come to him for help, he will be able to give it...if you can convince him.
When you wake, you remember every detail of the strange dream--and keep with you the conviction that there is help out there if you only need it badly enough.