Apollo was returning to his bed at dawn. He'd been out all night in an attempt to avoid the dreams that haunted his sleep. If he could manage to exhaust himself enough, he could avoid them sometimes. But they were so vivid, he knew what this was and did not like it. He was with a woman, he was by himself, he was a child, he was in school, they were always so jumbled up that he couldn't make any sense of it. He was not the type to like not being in control of himself.

And this whole past life thing was getting to him, because it didn't allow him peace ever. He would not stand to have his sleep deprived more, if only he could find the strength to stand. But he'd fallen asleep, and his dreams began. Always changing, "Mommy!" "Teacher!" He was running through a field with a little girl and they were laughing, tumbling and enjoying themselves, he was being shot to death, he was being bullied at school, his mother's smile; and a warm embrace from her. Sometimes it happened longer than that, sometimes shorter, he hadn't wanted it at all but it happened almost no matter what he did.

It wasn't his life, he wasn't whoever he was in his dreams, he was Apollo McQueen heir to the McQueen fortune, and he was not weak enough to give into the impulse to just quit give up and let these supposed memories win. He was stronger than that.