The shutters of his window flew open, and the sunlight violently pierced through.
"Argh, no!" protested Moptop, shielding himself from the blinding rays. "I want to sleep!"
"Too bad," Cajun Mother declared. "We're going shopping."
The two thus filed into the car, Moptop hating the world and all in it. He'd been up until four the previous morning, so the light of day filled him with nausea. They soon arrived at a small shopping complex, wherein a path adorned with flowered trellises led to the various canopied storefronts. As they walked down the path, a certain angle of a flower shocked Moptop. He'd seen this before, somewhere . . . it was in his dream last night! Somewhat shaken, he continued down the path until he and Cajun Mother entered a sporting goods store.
Moptop halfheartedly looked through a rack of basketball jerseys until he was startled by a figure's sudden appearance behind him. It was Donbran, a man he'd never counted on seeing again.
"You?" Moptop stammered, his voice strained with anger and confusion. Donbran was wearing yellow-rimmed glasses, and, again, Moptop realized he had seen this in a dream.
Cajun Mother calmly but coldly acknowledged Donbran, then she and Moptop quickly left the bespectacled, prodigal son behind.
Later that night, Moptop found himself wandering in a haze into a large, domed theatre. Gentle chants echoed through the halls. The lobby was filled with people, but they somehow seemed fake, and they took no notice of him. Eventually, Moptop entered a kitchen and found a little girl inside, sitting on one of the counters.
"Hello," he said. "What are you doing here?"
"Waiting," she replied.
"I've been having strange dreams lately. I'm seeing things before they happen. What do you think of that?" inquired the light-headed Moptop.
"Look," she replied, pointing behind him.
He turned to face a shadowy figure, like a spectral woman residing somewhere between this world and the next.
"You've seen this before, but now you're here," stated the little girl. "You're supposed to be here!"
Moptop knew that he had to fight this ghostlike creature, and several people entered the room to observe. He reached into his coat and pulled out his tiny, Elven pocketknife.
"Don't do that," said a large woman who stormed into the room. Moptop was surprised but pleased that he had an ally. The spectral figure seemed agitated by the arrival of the woman, and soon Moptop realized why. "I have a different approach," she boldly intoned.
The woman angrily began shouting a gnocchi recipe at the top of her lungs, and the spectral woman struggled, as if weighed down by the words. Moptop uncomfortably looked around at the others in the room. The little girl shrugged in confusion.
Finally, the woman finished her marinara diatribe, and the wraith dissipated as mist in the wind.
