Duke woke up sweating. His head was pounding and he felt like he had the most massive hangover. Except he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol last night. Since he’d come home for February break he kept getting these horrible headaches, and the dreams. Jeezus the dreams he was having…
He pulled himself out of bed with a groan and staggered to the mirror to look at his own face. He looked almost as bad as he felt. His eyes were bloodshot, his face was haggard, and he needed a shave. He’d been dreaming of Daniella again. He’d been dreaming of Daniella every god-damned night. Strange, inexplicable dreams that were so real, so detailed, so bizarrely consistent, they were almost like memories. Except they weren’t.
Some of the dreams were like benign scenes from a movie. Her standing in
