I can see in dreams. Like I used to, as a boy -- with colors and dimension. It takes me another sleepy moment to realize I'm no longer sleeping. That the image before me is real and not the byproduct of an overactive imagination.

Then I'm wide awake. My heart pounds in my chest and I rub the last vestiges of sleep from my eyes, turning an excited gaze to my hands. Young and free of callouses, just as I expected: the Island's pulled this trick once before, but the circumstances now couldn't be any more different than the last time.

"Ellen, honey, I need you to wake up and not panic," I say, trying to make my voice sound closer to normal. My voice has already dropped, at least, but I don't exactly sound like my usual self.