Reality Flux
an excerpt

His eyes popped open. He was on his stomach, and he was facing the wall, away from his desk.
Goddammit, those damned dreams again.
They’d been getting... weirder the past couple of nights. He’d had another lab experience—the elf and the black guy were still there—and then they changed the next night. Then it became some type of medieval battlefield, or at least something with horses and swords and spears. He couldn’t tell what era, if indeed it was real history. That time—he’d only been there once—no one had “seen” him. Of course, at the time, the guys were busy killing each other, so it was probably to be expected.
Then he’d had a brief dream of a more modern battlefield... but this time there these walking tanks and floating hummers and weird looking helicopter-jet hybrids.
You know, thinking back on these dreams, he must be definitely whacked. Maybe he should really see a shrink. He’d had some odd dreams before, but these ones just felt real. It was almost like he was in a real place, and surrounded by that haze that always clouded his senses.
Oh, well, they were just dreams. Just dreams.
Hmm, it was getting bright already, but he didn’t feel all that rested. What time was it? The days were getting longer now, after all. He turned his head and looked at the clock, which was on his desk.
What the hell...?
He stared at the clock.
It was only one in the morning!
But it looked like the sun had risen already. The pale glow was exactly like how the sun lit up his room through his window blinds. But the light was a little too on the blue side, and it was several hours early, at the least, for this light. He rolled over onto his back.
And... oh crap.
“What the frickin’ hell!” he gasped.
Okay, he was still dreaming. He had to be in dreamland, or maybe he’d just gone loony all of a sudden. Or maybe he was just way too tired.
Because there was no way in hell a ball of pale blue fire was floating three feet above his bed. No way in—
FLASH!

*****

Lorencia Quelltis looked up from letter she had been poring over as a one of the young stable boys came into her study, breathless. She looked up at one of the sentries who had followed the lad into the room.
“Apologies, my lady, but he says he has something important to pass on. He claims that the stablemaster has found some strange young man lying among the hay.”

*****

“I don’t know, My Lady! I just found him in the stable!”
No, no, he didn’t want to wake up yet. He still wanted to shoot the bad guys. He had this good sniping spot and Moose was going to try to knife him and Solace would LOL and then he’d ride the ponies—
“Indeed? Suppose he is a thief?”
“I would doubt it. What sort of idiot thief falls asleep in the place he is trying to rob?
He had to finish reading that book. Jen would be pissed if he didn’t finish it soon since she liked those series and he was taking a long time and it was such a good read but she would think he was a thief—
“Truth. Also, what strange garb to wear to sneak into a house.”
“Perhaps he lost his clothes for some reason? Those look like undergarments.”
“Maybe. Garrick, wake him up. I think that bucket will do nicely”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Maybe he should wake up already since Jen had practice no wait tomorrow or was it today was Saturday and there was no practice because the coach has said YAAAAAH!
He screamed as something very wet and very cold splashed over his body.
He leaped to his feet.
And then he was on the ground again, on his back, pinned by what felt like several pairs of hands.
This was still a dream, right?
“Why have you invaded these stables?”
The hell?
He shook his head to clear it, and looked up. A young, brunette woman was staring down at him. And unless his brain had mixed up fashions, that outfit looked plain wrong for the twenty-first century. After all, this was only a dream, right? A very wet, very rough-handed dream, sure, but still a figment of his subconscious, right?
“Answer the Lady!” a harsh voice barked from somewhere near his head.
“What the hell is going on?” he slurred. “I’d like to wake up now.”
Something hard slapped his cheek. Ouch. That hurt. Talk about realistic dreams...
“Fool! You dare speak to—”
“Ow, that hurt! Maybe if you actually gimme some time to clear my head, I could answer some damned questions, asshole.”
“Why, you—”
“Garrick, hold!” the chick ordered. “Beating him won’t do anything. Let him to his feet.”
The multiple pairs of hands lifted him up. His legs felt weak, but there were hands wrapped around his biceps. He wasn’t going anywhere. Oh well, it was better than the mud he’d been lying on.
Well, the imaginary mud.
“Geez, finally someone knows something called diplomacy.”
“It would seem,” the woman said with a faint chuckle. “But I deserve a question answered, stranger.”
“Which is?”
“Who are you?”
And then it hit him. Big time. This ain’t no dream, Vic-boy. Everything about this was real as hell.
“Where am I?” he asked faintly.