The next dream I remember from the sequence of nights was maybe the most disturbing. As Sara later described hers, it was “like looking in the mirror and seeing yourself as a corpse.” Do you remember ever playing the game Ghost in the Graveyard as a kid? The dream started like that: I was trying to hide but I’m not sure from what. I found a spot behind a nice big tombstone. Not only did I feel like it concealed me well, but it also shielded me from the cold wind. As I grew bored in my new found shelter, I did what anyone squatting next to a grave would do: I read the epitaph. And it read like it was my own:
George Oaks
The only thing dark in this man’s soul
was the black of his lungs
and a secret he held until death,
his last words: no more dreams, only rest.
Well when I read this, I jumped back. My name is George Oaks. I’m a smoker. And I have dreams that I wish to escape. All of this seemed like deja vu within the actual dream. I’m not sure if there’s an actual clue here or not to the bigger mystery of the treasure as I mentioned previously. In Sara’s dream, everything was the same of course… except it was her name on the grave. And now she’s missing. I’m scared when left with thoughts like these.
The one other thing I remember from this dream: there was a set of five graves clustered together, all facing my grave (or whoever the other George Oaks was). And on three of these I recognized these names: Anderson, Fred, and Anna Marie.
