"As convincing as a paternity test," Cynthia overheard Ed say to himself as he looked over the dream garden he had just created. She looked quizzically at the graying stranger who looked up, startled to see her appear in the garden at just that moment. He chuckled and turned away, walking towards what appeared to be a pair of life-size glass statues a short distance away.

Cynthia looked around trying to gain her bearings. The sun was beaming on every grass blade, leaf, tree, and water droplet in the fountain garden while evergreens and grasses swayed in the breeze. A single fountain made of pink quartz sat in a bed of moss at the center of the garden. A bone-white lily served as the fountain’s spout, spraying water into the air and raining droplets onto the surface of the pond below.

Cynthia watched the foiled surface of the pond wrinkle into gold and silver ringlets.It was an entrancing pond (as it was meant to be so), and Cynthia had to forcefully shut her eyes to direct her attention back to the man who had just left. Cynthia gasped, realizing the glass statues were moving. Their fluid movements shone with the light of reflected sun. She soon realized they weren’t just moving, but they were obviously communicating as the older gentleman nodded and pointed in her direction. She walked closer, hoping to catch a snippet of their conversation.

"Ara, why do I have to wait?" The man crossed his arms stubbornly.

The glass statue chimed the answer back, obviously amused. "Ed, we’re here for the test, not for your love life."

"Odds are, she won’t even remember anyway. Com’on, let me approach her before the test gets started." The man named Ed tried to cajole the brilliant entity into complying.

The glass stopped flowing and became rigid as cut glass. "There will be plenty of time for that, Ed. Trust us--we’re your guides!"

"You’re my party-poopers, more like it," Ed conceded defeat amicably as he waved their objections away. "Besides, what if she doesn’t walk through?"

"She will. Don’t worry, she will." The guides said in unison.

Cynthia felt Ed’s green eye’s appraising her as she approached. They rested on her slightly longer than a stranger had a right to look. Cynthia was used to that though; many men found her appealing. She smiled at him, her lips half-parted, revealing a set of perfectly stranded pearls. She pushed her auburn bangs from her face, tidying her look for the total effect. Ed smiled back, but refused to take her up on her invitation. Instead, he pretended to be distracted by someone he had spied over his guide’s shoulders.

A lumberjack of a man was squatting next to a miniature evergreen, examining the conifer closely. He looked up, surprised for a moment, as he noticed Ed waving a welcome to him.

The gardener waved back. "Ed--Ed Bishop! What are you doing here?" he called back and walked towards Ed.

As Cynthia watched the gardener’s attention drifted towards the mossy bank of the fountain. Soon, the gardener had forgotten Ed all together as he settled near the foot of the fountain, gleefully tucking his bare toes into the inviting moss at the base. Cynthia looked back towards Ed, who shrugged at being so easily overlooked. He glided smoothly, in midair, to a point above the center of the fountain.

Just then an oddity of a man walked into the dream; his head literally buried in a white cloud and the lower half of his pajamas flopping wildly about. Cynthia stared at the apparition uncertain of what to make of it. Words like "entropy, dynamics," and "multiple integral" slipped out every now and then, but other than that the half cloud/half man seemed harmless. The cloud man carried a heavy book in his hands while his finely manicured fingers traced out the words. Cynthia walked back and sat down on a porous bench at the foot of the fountain, bumping into Sr. Mary, her sibling, as she did so. They began laughing, childishly, at the cloud-man, even though Sr. Mary hid her amusement behind the veil of her gray habit.

"By dreaming this dream tonight," Ed began the introduction and all eyes focused on his image above the fountain, "you have all agreed to be part of the ‘Seekers of Truth.’ Each of you have come to this dream with the hope of gaining wisdom within your own world. My name is Ed Bishop and I am here to help you achieve your goal. Welcome to my dream."

"Dream worlds... humph!" The cloud man interrupted, snorting his disbelief loudly and went back to his book. A few seconds passed before his well-trimmed nails went swiftly to his head, adjusting a set of missing spectacles as he tried to scan the pages. He got up with the book held squarely in front of him. " Wait a minute!" He said excitedly to himself. "The writing’s changing! This is a dream!"

The cloud vanished to be replaced by a pair of shiny, gold, wire-rimmed spectacles that crowned a set of intense, stormy eyes. The tidily-groomed beard neatly surrounded the pale, thin lips that were drawn in deep disapproval at the unorthodox conclusion.

At the professor’s delayed reaction, Cynthia burst out laughing. "What a stupefying discovery!" she said, as the tears rolled down her face. "The man’s been walking around with a cloud as his head and he just now realizes it’s a dream! How very clever!" Sr. Mary chuckled as she saw the humor in his announcement. The professor looked over angrily as he threw the book away and sat down on the fountain edge to sulk. He glared at Cynthia and Sr. Mary before turning rigidly, ignoring their presence as best as he could.

"Enough!" Ed’s voice rang commandingly through the dream. "Can I continue,now?"

They all peered up at Ed, puzzled.

"Wait a minute," Ed snapped his fingers, "I almost didn’t notice. Where’s Jasmine?"

Cynthia looked around. There were six other people there besides herself. She only knew Sr. Mary from her daily existence, outside Ed’s dream. From the looks on the others’ faces, she could believe none of them had ever met before tonight.

"Mishra?! Ara!" Ed called towards his guides, "we need Jasmine before we can continue. Can you round her up?"

The glass statue’s forms melted into a glob of blower’s glass which expanded with invisible power. The crystal bubble inflated, rainbowed, and popped, sounding a pleasant note before it disappeared.

Seconds passed briefly before the air shimmered in front of Cynthia and the image of Jasmine Song stabilized in front of her, supported on either side by the glassy ghosts. Contrary to her name, Jasmine, she was a very ordinary woman of medium build, sandy blonde hair, and slightly overweight. She appeared: one hand on her hip, a sardonic twist to her lips, and her foot tapping the ground impatiently.

As her eyes landed on Ed Bishop floating in the center above the mystic fountain, a pleased look crossed her face. "Oh, ho!" Jasmine’s voice echoed in a musical fashion similar to the timbre of Ed’s voice but higher in pitch. "So... you were going to start the party without me, huh?"

Ed laughed. "I seem to remember hearing about how you never got lost."

A small frown appeared on Jasmine’s lips.

"Now you’ll have a chance to demonstrate that marvelous homing instinct of yours. And do try to be a little more punctual--next time, we might just start without you."

"If I’m lucky, maybe!" The frown disappeared and Jasmine laughed also as she dutifully sat herself on the moss next to the gardener.

Cynthia looked at the data: three women, four men. Each had varied backgrounds that didn’t seem to interconnect. Cynthia stored the information in her subconscious (the way she did for many titillating pieces of data that seemed meaningless and yet meaningful for some reason). It was hard to keep from doing her job even here in her dreams. However, to Cynthia, data analysis was more of a reflection of her personality rather than a job. The job just happened to do what she did naturally: search out patterns, correlate them, and assign them meanings. In her waking world Cynthia was a medical data analyst. She analyzed medical trends within hospitals; the mortality rates, procedure rates, dosage, admittances, etc. would be correlated and compared to various findings in other hospitals around the country.

Here (in the dream world), she also got to let her imagination explore the infinite possibilities and patterns distinct to this realm--a very pleasurable activity for her. Cynthia supposed, that even the dream world had to have some sort of order or pattern which things followed.

"Now..." Ed continued looking them over, "where was I? Oh, yes. You are here because you all have a desire to peel back the mysteries of the physical existence, to grow beyond what you are, to achieve wisdom and immortality. The prize is within everyone’s reach but only a few are chosen to be tested in the Tower of Dreams."

"Many are called, but few are chosen." Sr. Mary quoted scripture softly under her breath as her eyes remained riveted toward Ed, a Christ-like figure propped above a fine altar of precious metals and semi-precious stones. Cynthia rolled her eyes at Sr. Mary’s editorializing.

"Your presence here today means you have considered the risks (albeit, subconsciously) of attempting the seven-fold challenge of the Tower of Dreams. There are many dangers within. Many have lost their way. Some have woken up--never to return to the tower in their lifetime. Some remain trapped within. Of those that remain, some will try to seek you out and destroy your chances as well, or they may try to possess you as a means of escape from the tower (if they have not already found another way out). You must be aware of the dangers and remain clear from them. Do not let your guard down for an instant.

Upon entering the tower you will remain linked to it for seven days. One week is ALL anyone has to master the Tower of Dreams. Within those seven days you must reach the seventh level. Each night you as a group, called the Seekers of Truth, will arrive within the tower at the place you left off the night before. If you climb one level a night, on the seventh night, Sunday, you will reach the seventh level. Even if you skip a level you will eventually return and face the challenges each level has to offer until all seven tests are complete and we meet again on the seventh level. Some of you may get there sooner than others. However, one final word of caution: If you have not reached the seventh level by the next Monday morning you will be trapped in whatever dream you have been ensnared by. But even for those who are trapped, there is still a final way out.

To win: one must reach the seventh level. However, I suggest that it is better to forfeit the prize than to be ensnared in your dreams. You may choose to leave at anytime before the seventh day ends. Be careful that you make the choice while you are still able. Once mesmerized by your dreams, you will not have the capability to make the decision to leave before the seventh day ends; and leaving will be all the more difficult. If you do make it to the seventh level, there we will achieve only what the immortals have dreamed of."

"Immortality?" The professor wetted his lips nervously as he questioned Ed. "Are you telling us we will be immortal if we reach the seventh level? Is that the prize?"

"That and much more, Prof. Taslim. Whatever your soul desires will be your prize. But, there are many challenges along the way. Take care lest you lose your way!" With that last warning Ed pointed to the archway at the end of the garden. "There is the doorway to the Tower of Dreams." The amethyst-encrusted, Islamic archway was veiled in a medieval knightly shield made of the sun’s reflections. The surface remained smooth and unbroken, a mirror to each soul that chose to pass its way. "Let only the wise and pure of heart pass through."

Sr. Mary got up stiffly and walked towards the archway. Her gray Maryknoll habit had vanished to be replaced by a virgin bridal gown. She smiled at her image in the mirror as she reached her hand through the doorway and the surface parted for her in waves.

It reminded Cynthia of the surface of the fountain with its rhythmic circles emanating from each water droplet. She had mused over the reflection of gold into silver and the mind expansive nature of the waves. She had, at one point, thought she had felt the shock as the golden droplets from the lily had met their mate in the pool’s surface. As the thought crossed her mind again, she became ensnared in the image. She thought she saw Sr. Mary falling and falling, like the water droplets dropping into the center of the fountain. As Sr. Mary stepped through the arch, she knifed a birth in the slate-hard mirror of the doorway to the Tower of Dreams like a droplet of water from the mystic fountain.

Cynthia shook her head at the vision of Sr. Mary’s form melding with the mirrored surface. It left circular wakes in the surface of the shield that were gently subsiding. Ed clapped his approval; the game was about to begin.

"Hopefully, I’ll see you on the seventh level," Ed Bishop winked; his eyes the eyes of a praying mantis surveying its territory, glittering most appreciatively in Cynthia’s direction. With that last thought, his form vanished through the mirror as Prof. Taslim took a step towards the archway and into the Tower of Dreams.

Cynthia shrugged. She couldn’t let Bridget--she meant Sr. Mary--go through this by herself, now could she? She kept having to remind herself that Sr. Mary, although her blood sister, did not like being referred to with her birth name of Bridget. Nun or not--she was still her sister, Cynthia decided. She got up to take her turn at the arch that lead to the Tower of Dreams. After all, she was much more practical about these vague, spiritual tests than Sr. Mary. She hesitated slightly as she remembered the guides’ words, but she had no choice. She walked through the mirrored entrance, attaching herself closely to the woman named Jasmine for safety. However, before she could see what was on the other side, she awoke.

CHAPTER 2