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jacket wearing ginger who may or may not be a man named Jay, standing over me.
    I stare up at his hulking body, no jacket this time, just a plain t-shirt that shows off every taut muscle, and jeans. He gives me a half-smile.
    Mind if I sit down?
    He’s speaking to me, right into my head, without opening his mouth.
    I’m not a fan of this.
    I open my mouth and am surprised when the words, “Can I talk?” come out.
    “Of course,” he says. “I understand it must be strange for you. It’s still strange for me.”
    I frown at him. My dreams have been so lucid lately, but never the ones that have involved him. I’ve never been able to just exist like this, to interact with him and have it be so real.
    I need to take advantage.
    “Who are you?” I ask him. “I mean, I know I’m dreaming.”
    He stares down at me, his smile twisting slightly. My god, this dude is even more handsome up close. I’m starting to think there is no way in hell that I met him in real life because if he really was the guy from the wedding, I know I would have remembered every detail of his face, no matter how blackout drunk I got.
    “ Are you dreaming?” he asks, easing himself down to sit beside me. He props his elbows on his knees and gives me a sidelong glance. “Or are you awake?”
    All the hairs on my arm stand up and I can’t tell if it’s because he’s so close or the way his eyes seem to gaze right into the heart of me, or because I’m starting to think maybe I am awake after all.
    “You never answered my question,” I tell him, shifting away slightly, his proximity to me producing a strange push pull, like two magnets about to connect. “Why do I keep dreaming you? Have we met before? What’s your name?”
    “So many questions, Ada, so little time” he says. There’s something so soothing about his voice, both low and silken, even in such a dead place like this where all sound is worn down, dull. “But you have met me before. At the wedding.”
    “I knew it,” I whisper, feeling mildly triumphant.
    “I guess it doesn’t say much about me that you don’t really remember,” he says with a wince, a piece of wavy hair flopping on his forehead. “Or maybe it says a lot.”
    “I blame the champagne,” I tell him. “So now I know I’ve met you before. Am I conjuring you up because I found you absurdly handsome and I’m hoping to pick up where we left off?”
    Okay, normally I’m not this forward with guys but it’s my dream, I can do what the hell I want.
    The corner of his mouth quirks up. He has damn fine lips. “We didn’t really leave off anywhere. You took off your shoes and went to get champagne. I never saw you again.”
    I’m wondering if that’s true or if it’s what my subconscious wants me to believe. After all, it’s pretty much what Perry had told me earlier.
    “You’re here,” he says slowly, his face falling slightly, “because I have something to show you.”
    He gets to his feet in one fluid motion and reaches down for my hand.
    Without thinking, as if my hand has a mind of its own, it goes to his and I feel an immediate jolt of electricity running through me. Not just the electricity you read about in romance novels. I mean actual voltage. My lips are buzzing.
    “Sorry,” he says, hauling me to my feet, still holding onto my hand. “The connection in here can be a livewire.”
    A livewire? It’s magnetic is what it is, it feels like my palm is stuck to his and our hands meld together like they were always meant to be this way.
    Fuck. Though the respite from the horror is welcome, I’m not sure all this Twilight-like, magnetic, electric bullshit is any better, dream-wise.
    Come on , he says in my head. And use your inside voice.
    Okay, I say, hearing my words escape, despite not opening my mouth.
    He leads the way, his large form in front of me as he takes me toward the forest.
    The forest of darkness and death.
    My chest feels heavy and he pauses, looking at me over his