The dream was like all his dreams of late. He saw many things through his mind's eye but the why of it all eluded him still. There were things he should know, things that danced on the edge of awareness but never came into the light. The settings flashed, his perceptions changed, but the scenes always ended the same. It was in those ends that he began to comprehend the truth.

It opened in the year 123 A.S. Over a hundred years had passed since the Secession of the Free States and the scars of war had all but faded. Just for an instant he glimpsed the way the land had looked during that time of war, burnt and gray and empty. But, in the way of dreams, the charred remnants were gone before he could focus on them, replaced with lush forest. He wound his way through tall pine trees as he followed the path that led him home.

As he watched, cold fingers seemed to play up and down his soul. With the duality of dreams, he watched and dreaded each step taken down the path. Part of him knew fear even as he looked through the eyes of the man who walked the path in the woods.

He looked up to watch the treetops sway in front of the clear blue sky and, before his gaze returned to the forest floor, the fear spiked. As the watcher, he knew what he would see. A man stood not five feet away, his face hidden in shadows.

He knew what was coming but was helpless to prevent it. He never saw the knife that sliced up into his ribs. He struggled to draw breath. His teeth clenched against the pain that washed over him. He needed answers but couldn't fight the pain that consumed him.

The year was 187 A.S. and he walked along a city street. He marveled at the number of people that would actually choose to live in such a confined space. The crowd was thick this time of day, a great throng, fenced by colossal structures of their own design. He had been here for over a year but, in the dream, he couldn't remember from where he came. He walked these streets day after day, could not take a step without touching another human soul, yet never had he felt so alone. He stopped, allowing himself to be jostled by the pedestrians rushing past. His eyes were drawn to a man who materialized out of the crowd right in front of him. He wanted to run, but he was frozen in the dream. His feet would not move, terror flashed before acceptance. He closed his eyes just as his chest caved as if hit with a hammer. There was no time for a last breath before the darkness came.

He jumped to the year 317. He was in a bed, staring up at the ceiling. He was wary of sleep but couldn't seem to remember why. There was something about dreams, something about death, but it was lost in the ether. He felt the knowledge was there, just under this layer of thought but ... did he want to uncover it? Had he thought this very thing before?

He threw off the covers and swung out of bed. It was at that moment that something, someone, grabbed the back of his head. He didn't fight as he felt the line being drawn across his throat. He didn't struggle as his lungs filled with blood and the life drained away. How long had this gone on? How could it stop? The questions repeated over and over, without answer until all that was left was the darkness.

A young man woke with tears streaming down his face. He wiped them away with the back of his hand. The dreams had been with him for so long now that the days of being wrenched away were far behind him. He thought about taking another drink but decided against it. He had good buzz going and would need what was left in the bottle come morning.

He had suffered through these dreams almost nightly now and had come to realize that they weren't just random expressions of his subconscious. The events that played out in his mind as he slept were recollections of past experience. The time and places changed but, in the end, he never avoided death. In all the dreams he remembered upon waking, never had his been a natural death. It was always at a young age, come out of nowhere for no reason, murdered at the hands of a stranger, never his fault but his fate just the same.

The trepidation that threatened to drive him mad was replaced with acceptance. A complete surrender to what was to come. It would be soon now, this life would end and he'd be born to do it all over again in another time. It would be quick, it would be violent, and he would be dead.

He rolled over and drifted to sleep wondering how it would end this time.