Metanoia: A Sequel

Chapter 1: Brief Midnight Flashback

Lorelai "Rory" Gilmore woke up sweating feverishly that night at precisely twelve-thirty. Wiping off the beads of sweat, she put her other hand to her forehead and tried to recall what dream she had just now.

"Rory," his voice seemed to call, as though it was traveling from a distance, presumably the other side of the Earth when in reality, he was in California, practically a stranger.

"Rory," the voice spoke again, softly but clear enough to hear the familiar tone. "I'm heading for you."

A hand, sculpted identically to Logan Huntzberger's own hand, formed from a cloud of green, radiant light and reached for another, which was hovering in midair. This other hand was well-manicured with an elegant, gold ring bearing a single pearl. Logan's hand grasped Rory's wedding-ring hand, removing the ring and disposing of it. The lustrous ring glimmered as it spun, rapidly journeying downwards, never to be seen again. A single ping! was the last trace it left.

The mystical voice continued. "This is fruitless. Abandon it. This is fruitless. This is-"

That was when Rory had rolled out of bed in her sleep, tumbling onto the carpeted floor of her diminutive bedroom-that-wasn't-really-a-bedroom, striking the sky blue throw rug and waking up from the force. She had, unbeknownst to her resting state, kicked at her covers, toppling her work laptop as well. She checked for any damage. Seeing none, she crawled back into bed, pulling the sheets over her head. But the dream still haunted her.

Was life trying to tell her something? No, it couldn't be. Relations with Logan had broken off years ago. Years ago. Her past was irrelevant. This was her future now. Am I just missing him? Yes, that has to be it, she thought as she drifted off.

Little did she know that the dream was telling her something-that Logan would be close by, just as the dream predicted.