For the first time in weeks, I dreamt.

I awake in the empty foyer. I look around, and see the Colonel. Holding Damien's cane, he has absconded his jacket and helmet, and his hair is disheveled, as if he has been running his fingers through it. As I look at him, he stumbles back. He seems different. He walks forward. I take a step back. "Oh! No! No, it's okay!" He says, hurriedly. A smile of childlike glee spreads across his tired face. "I-I thought you were dead." He says, still smiling. "I-I-I mean; of course!" He yells suddenly. "You're not dead! You're not- how could you be dead!?" He seems shocked. "I-I wouldn't have killed you! I didn't kill you!" This is horrible. I am watching him lose his mind before my very eyes. "I mean; I-I... of course! I didn't kill anybody! It was all a joke!" He yells gleefully. "It was all a joke!" He points at me. "Were you in on this? Did Damien put you up to this?" He asked. "Of course he did!" The Colonel says, answering his own question. "Damien, where are you? You rapscallion!"  He stumbles into the next room. "Where are you!?" He yells again. "Celine?" He calls. "It's time to come out now!" Even as he disappears from view, I can still hear him. "Ah, it was good, it was good! You almost had me!" I stop listening, instead focusing on Damien's cane. As I reach for it, I see that my hand is distinctly feminine. But as I grasp the cane, my hand becomes masculine. I look at the mirror in front of me, seeing not myself; but Damien. As I stare, the mirror cracks. The cracks are full of static. The sound is blaring in my ears. Something is wrong. I can't feel my body. As I stare, Damien scowls, then walks away. But I remain in front of the mirror.

I woke up in a cold sweat. Of course my first dream had to be of that. It made me angry.