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merely indicates that the dreamer is probably not in a deep sleep at the time and is, therefore, more cognizant of what is going on in his own head.”

    “I’m sure you’re aware that Dr. Belvedere believed there was more to the phenomenon, at least in some individuals,” she said earnestly.
    Randolph sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I was afraid of this.”
    “Afraid of what?”
    “My father really did go completely wacko toward the end.” He shook his head. “I suppose I can only be grateful that he died before he could completely tarnish his professional reputation by publishing any more of his crazy investigations into psychic dreaming.”
    A rush of anger momentarily blotted out her common sense and caution.
    “That is an outrageous thing to say. It is obvious that the two of you did not have a good relationship. I’m sorry about that, but—”
    “How d–dare you presume to analyze my relationship with my father?” Randolph was stuttering with rage now. “You have no credentials in the field of psychology, neuroscience or any other field that is even remotely connected to serious dream research. You have no business working at a respectable research facility of any kind.”
    “Sir, if you knew anything at all about your father, you must realize that, although he could be difficult, he was a brilliant man whose investigations into extreme dreaming will someday be validated by others.”
    She knew at once she had gone too far.
    Randolph vibrated with so much tension that his hands shook.“My father was most certainly a capable researcher at one time. But he allowed his eccentricities to overwhelm his scientific training. I suspect that toward the end, he suffered from some sort of undiagnosed dementia.”
    “He was not demented.” The only thing that kept her in her seat was the knowledge that losing her temper completely would provide Randolph with all the ammunition he needed to fire her on the spot.
    To her surprise, Randolph smiled. It was not a nice smile, however. It was a thin, mean-spirited little grin of anticipation.
    “Let’s return to the subject of your position here at the center,” he said. “Specifically, your lack of professional credentials and degrees.”
    “Dr. Belvedere felt that I had other qualities that made me useful.”
    “Yes, I know, Ms. Wright. But in case it has escaped your notice, I am now the director of the center, and, frankly, I don’t have any use for you at all.”
    She thought about the large outstanding balances on her credit card statements and went ice cold.
    “Currently the Belvedere Center for Sleep Research is considered to be a small, backwater lab in the world of sleep studies,” Randolph continued. “Until now it has certainly not been a major player in the field. But I intend to change that. As of today, it will focus entirely on sleep research. There will be no more work done on my father’s absurd dream theories. Do you understand, Ms. Wright?”

    She thought about her beautiful new furniture sitting in the rented storage locker.
    “You’ve made yourself very clear,” she said quietly.
    “We are going to ditch the woo-woo factor, Ms. Wright.” Randolph was looking increasingly cheerful. “The Department of Dream Analysis no longer exists. I am terminating your employment immediately.”
    She had nothing left to lose, she decided. “You’re letting me go because closing the Department of Dream Analysis is the only way you can come up with to punish your father. Don’t you think that’s a little childish?”
    “How dare you!” He straightened in his chair, righteous indignation blazing in his eyes. “I am p–p–protecting what is left of his reputation.”
    “Wonderful.” She spread her hands. “Now you’re rationalizing your actions by telling yourself you’re doing this out of respect for your father. Give me a break. You’re the one with the doctorate in psychology. You know as well as I do that’s not going