A dream walker is a dangerous enemy to have. More dangerous still to find yourself being observed without any warning.

In my dream I had arrived to a Flapper era styled houseboat on the Willamette with Donna. We were attending a party and were greeted by two hosts at the door.

The man greeted Donna and whisked her away. The woman whose face I can’t recall, but remembered at the time told me her name after I asked. All I heard was static after a “Kuh” sound.

She gave me a coy smile and said “Just like last time,” before winking and walking away.

It was as if the ice of a winter lake broke beneath me. I was plunged into a frigid consciousness— aware that this woman did not belong in my dream. Aware that I had had this dream before. But that she wasn’t aware i was dreaming that time. That she couldn’t be aware I was dreaming at that moment.

I’ve been looking for her ever since. I wonder if she slips by at the edge of my slumber. Leaving small clues for me to step over as I mistakenly look for something of large significance.

I feel like a big game Hunter hunting a house cat. Except the house cat is far more dangerous than a lion could ever be.