Welcome, Dear, But Remember, They Are Precious,...

Monsieur had by now removed his top hat and placed it under the table and then wiped the perspiration from his brow."I presume, Mademoiselle, that you were in the gallery, and that you would like to hear more of my extraordinary claim?"His keen eyes brought a blush to her cheeks as she lowered her long lashes and replied huskily, "Your claim Monsieur, was so unbelievable as to be believable, like Monsieur Eiffel's dreams of building an iron tower three hundred metres high." True - true, and I must admire the courage in your reasoning, since you are the only one out of hundreds who have passed through the gallery over the past month, to even consider that what I say may be true, but to have one possible convert is better than none, and such a pretty one as you is an added bonus, and I have to start somewhere, but perhaps, Mame'selle, before I begin, please permit me to introduce myself, I am Jacque Peron, and a corsetiere by trade."She then looked up and smiled, "I now have you at a. I was the only thing moving, and there was only one other person in the dream, a woman. I checked her out and figured her for some kind of cop as she was carrying a gun. The scene suddenly came to life and I followed her onto a bus, only instead of a bus, I found myself in a bank. There was a hold-up in progress. The woman I had followed was there, in different clothes. I watched as she tricked the leader into taking her to a back office where she took him out, then came back out and took out the other two, one of them permanently. During all this, I found out she was an FBI agent."The next night it happened again. This time I found myself in the balcony of a church, at her wedding. The second scene that night was of her husband, a fellow agent, dying. Allison and I discussed it and I went to Bob with what I had seen. He determined that what I was seeing was not actually a dream, but rather a recreation of someone's memories, in a dream. This was totally new and it explained a few.
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