Betsy desperately wanted to encourage him further but to her credit, she kept her silence. We'd the decision up to Howie alone. I sensed it was a difficult one on his part. I'd witnessed his reaction the prior night.

"You have to promise whatever happens, it stays with us five of us." He cautioned, looking far more serious than the situation to warrant. "Drop dead; prick your finger, cross your heart," he added as we smiled our agreement. Quinn reacted as we'd grown to expect but Howie's visions became our afternoon project.

Howie turned to Betsy. "You're the person who suggested this; tell me what to do."

Betsy was thrilled to lead the game. As our most enthusiastic dream team member, she set out the chores for all of us as we gathered about the oak table. The first was a list for Howie. Is he there in the dream? Does his presence have any effect on the others in the dream? Can he move about? Does he cast a shadow? Can he feel anything? He should try and remember every detail he sees.

"It's important to find out the date and place," she said. "That way, we can determine if the scene really existed in the past." She turned to Martha. "You can take notes, just in case we forget something. Quinn, maybe you should monitor your gizmo stuff in case it has anything to do with this." While Betsy was dead serious, it remained a game in everyone else's mind except Howie. Kids fooling around with Ouija on a rainy day.

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I was left sitting on my hands until the appointed hour of Howie's nap before Betsy assigned me the chore of remaining in the small room while he slept. I was to record his eye and body movements.

Quinn demurred, saying he knew his settings by memory and remained downstairs with Martha. He picked up a magazine to show his disdain for our childishness. It was a Sports Illustrated swim suit issue so old they were wearing one piece suits. As Betsy and I climbed the stairs to the lab room, Howie laughed nervously. "I doubt I'll have any trouble falling asleep. I was awake half the night."

"I'll be right out here," Betsy said, pulling up a chair. She handed me a pad and pencil. "Take notes," she directed.

Howie and I entered the room and closed the door. I sat at the desk as he reclined on the bed, more suitable to his five foot seven frame.

"Maybe I should have downed a little booze to relax me," he said as he turned away toward the wall.




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