Everything in life is a test. I just happen to pass most of them.

I had gone back to my car to fetch some stuff I’d need to make sense of this whole ordeal. My car was beautiful. 1985 Oldsmobile Delta 88. White. Almost mint condition. Anyway, I’d grabbed a notebook that I’d been using for my job interview, a pen, and my sunglasses. I wasn’t used to being out in the sun this much, and I was already turning a pinker color than I usually look.

I had watched Mr. James start in upon one of the customers, but had only gotten to listen for a bit, before there was a crash from inside his trailer. I jotted down some of the bets and Prizes that Mr. James had offered, as well as what he’d asked for. I considered how this might be possible, and how powerful oaths seemed to be here.

I had seen G.A. meet up with Dr. Celestine. I once more jotted down details. Similarities. Differences. Attitudes. Style of walk. There were a lot more similarities than differences, and I can’t say that I was surprised. I had seen that thin blonde woman race back and forth across the carnival grounds, and talk with that red-headed (well, hell, truth be told he was almost completely covered in red hair) man, and shudder a few times during the conversation. Couldn’t forget that. I’d seen Mr. James’ counterpart enter the Ringmasters’ trailer, and come out holding a top hat, tears rolling down his face.

But, it seemed right now, that there were two very important things that I had noticed. The day before, I had seen Dr. Celestine (G.A.’s clone) carry a woman from the big top, a top hat resting on her chest. Then, today, I had seen the blonde woman take tthe very same top hat from Mr. James’ look-a-like, and stuff it in her backpack. They both seemed very intent on the top hat, and just looking at it made the hair on my arms stand on end. Something was in this hat.

I jotted all of this down, played with the order, and the possible meanings of these events, and decided that this was more intricate than any convoluted plot he’d ever come up with while role playing. This was going to take careful watching, note-taking, planning, ordering, and deciding. I sat down. It was easier to write that way. Amongst the sounds of the newly-installed rides, and the cheers and breathless gasps of the customers of the carnival, I started to hear the music of a warped calliope in the back of my mind, where the spirits used to speak.

Yeah, I usually pass tests with flying colors.

Yeah. This was weird. Really damn weird.

Just up in Saginaw for a job interview. That was it. These people were going to hire me at way more than I was worth. Hell, they even put me up in a hotel room while I was here. The interview had gone perfectly. Not a damn twitch. Wearing my usual interview attire. Black slacks, black button-down shirt, black suit coat, and a silver dragon pendant that had been a gift. What? Yeah, so I like black.

I had this dream. So wierd. Ginger… she’d never shown up in my dreams before. I miss her a lot. Probably too much. I ended up having a dream about her that I actually REMEMBERED. Ok, that may not be so strange to you, but it’s a once-a-year occurrence for me. See, she was part of this wandering carnival, and she was the high wire act. She always loved to sing and dance, but she never really learned how. It was some kind of intrinsic talent. She was swaying all the time, and let me tell you, it was sexy.

So, anyway, I had this dream. Her old car, Jilly, had gotten broadsided by a semi truck on the highway. It had flipped a few times, and the car was absolutely totaled. Ginger made it out ok, though. Then I get this white flash of light, and I’m seeing her do this high-wire act. In a leotard. Ok, at this point, the dream might have turned into one of those sex-dreams, but it didn’t! (I mean, c’mon. Leotard.) The wire that she’s doing the act on, that’s wierd. It catches my attention. Then I start hearing her sing, and damn, she’s got a voice. Only, it’s not her that’s singing. It’s the damn wire. Then I woke up. I dismissed it all entirely. I mean, c’mon. Who’s heard of a god damn singing high-wire and a mute redhead doing the act? Pssht. Right.

Except that I just relived it. I passed Big Dav on the way in. He didn’t recognize me. I swear to bob, I just saw my StoryTeller from Ohio walking around, GA. And now this. Ginger, mute, is doing a high wire act. And her wire is singing with her voice. I can only stand and stare. And I HAVE to look wierd. I’m a 6′ computer geek dressed in all black (a suit no less) in the middle of a carnival surrounded by farmers. And I’m just STARING because there’s nothing else I can do! That son of a bitch Draconis must be rolling on the floor with this one.

Ok, that’s now. Recap’s done. I’m standing here, in the middle of this field, watching. Her act ends, and the farmers drift away. Some of the more lecherous ones stick around, hoping that she’ll come down (LE-O-TARD) and I still can’t move. I’m still dumbfounded and staring. My dream, my Ginger, my lord… I don’t even notice when the other farmers drift away, and it ends up just being her and I. She gets up, and strolls (just strolls) over to the pole, and motions me over. I snap out of my trance, and approach. Curiouser and curiouser.

I can feel this pull from the wire, and from her. I couldn’t have stayed in my spot if I’d wanted to. She flips down and around (I’ll never forget how she can move like that), and fingers my pendant. Then I hear, inside my head, where the spirits used to speak, oh yes. with this one, a dragon. I nearly jump out of my skin. Ginger’s voice! Where the voices had once spoken to me! In the back of my head, at the tip of my spine, the base of my skull, the same pressure… I don’t understand.

I feel like the words have to fight their way out, “Yeah. She was singing earlier.” Oh, damn, I remember her voice, when she’d sing along with Godsmack, or anything else, or just sing when she was content… she even sang once when I held her… “She always used to sing.” Ginger… was it even her?… tilted her head, as if she was asking who… “Oh. Sorry, a girl I used to know.” A girl I fell in love with once, and would never forget. Damn you, Draconis, what Trickster aspect are you pulling now?! The Ginger-clone nods to me, and looks at me as if she’s expecting me to do something. Ah, what the hell, this can’t get any stranger.

“This is going to sound really weird….gods, I hate heights…but do you mind if I……” I shook my head. There’s no way Ginger was singing in the back of my mind. The spirits, or voices, or whatever, hadn’t talked to me there in so long… and she was still ALIVE. “Never mind.”

She motioned to follow her. What in the HELL was I doing? I started climbing the ladder on the pole, that’s what. I knelt on the platform (Japanese-style… only way a fat man ever learned out to kneel). Welcome. I’ve missed you, darling. Oh, by Tiamat and all that’s nothing, it WAS her. It WAS her, and she was here in this carnival, in her own clone’s high-wire. I reached out to touch it, and didn’t even notice the alarmed look on the clone’s face. I touched the wire, just like I used to touch her face. And a white flash surrounded me…

And I was in a room I didn’t recognize. Ginger was on the bed, asleep. It looked like a laptop had slid out of her hands while she was typing something. I was floating above the bed, and I could FEEL the dream… feel the connections, the webs, and their undoing. I whisper down to her, “Jilly wa urusai kuruma ja nai. I love you.” In the back of my mind, I hear her reply, I know you do, baby. You’re in my forever, don’t ever forget that. Muaaa. And with that, I am back at the carnival, kneeling on the pillar, a tear rolling down my face. My legs are starting to fall asleep. I sit there, shivering, my mind trying to wrap itself around what’s just happened. And then the clone shoves something out to me, a wrinkled, shiny (oooo… shiny) ticket. It’s golden, which makes me hesitate. Take it. I did. I shivered, it felt as creepy as real gold to me.

In my mind, I couldn’t help but quote Ghostbusters, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”