The lights were blinding and confusing. Amanda nearly fell over when the lights swerved to her right. The squealing from the tires were deafening. Four women got out of the vehicle almost at the same time. Three of them were frantically talking to each other and to her, but none of them made any sense. The fourth had a cellphone to her hear, practically screaming into it. It seemed that everything was happening in snapshots.
Amanda looked towards the vehicle, not quite making out what it was. She saw a shadow passed in front of the lights. It was one of the women, going to grab a blanket to cover her. She remembered how soft it felt over her bare shoulders. She put her hand to her head and felt tired. Falling to her knees, she looked at her hand. It was full of blood. Then she noticed her necklace and clutched the pendant as everything started to fade.
The alarm woke her up with a start. It was the same dream she had ever since she was found. According to the detective, it was similar to the stories that were given by the four witnesses. The four women that she saw in her dream.
Amanda sat up in bed and grabbed the pendant that hung at the end of the necklace. It was in the form of a woman, in a flowing dress. Her hair seemed to be blown back in the wind and she held out her hand as if beckoning. One of the nurses thought it was the Virgin Mary. Another person thought it was some goddess or based on classic art.
The detective had it evaluated and saw that it was a custom piece giving some hope to solving the case. In the end, it proved futile. No one came forward to claim the piece as their work of art, and every custom jeweler shop within a hundred of miles didn’t turn up any information.
"It the first time I saw the necklace in the dream," she told her therapist later.
"It's definitely something," he responded, “but after three years, I’m not sure if you will remember much more than that.”
Amanda sighed. It had been three years since she was found naked, in the middle of the road, cold and confused with a serious concussion. She was beginning to give up hope to have any of her memories.
"Are there other dreams you want to talk about?"
"Other than flying around in space and shooting aliens?" Amy responded with a chuckle, "Or perhaps I can tell you about the dream I had with the ability to move object with my mind."
“Do you know that you are dreaming?” The therapist asked after chuckling.
Amanda sighed again. “Not until I’ve reached the end. I seem to be falling in a ball of fire. My dreams always seem to end in a ball of fire.”
The therapist shifted in his chair. It was unusual for someone to have the same dream over and over again like that, but not unheard of.
"Perhaps I should turn my dreams into a book," Amanda said thoughtfully.
“You know,” the therapist said, “That may be a good idea.”