the sun was setting as, after a long journey, joe approached the boundary of sebastian dream’s castle in scotland.
a security guard appeared from behind a tree. he had a nasty looking weapon of a make joe, who was not a weapons person, could not identify, sling on his shoilder.
can i help you?
yes, i am a - a correspondent - of mister dream’s.
is he expecting you?
i did not send him a message telling him i was coming.
in that case i can not allow you to proceed.
but i know mister dream very well. i have corresponded with him for months. he has helped me out, given me advice.
so have thousands of other people.
that can not be possible.
the guard laughed. mister dream has his ways.
suddenly a terrible thought flashed through joe’s mind.
does mister dream use robots in his correspondence?
that is not for me to say.
an even more terrible thought followed the first one.
is mister dream himself a robot?
you have seen his picture on line, haven’t you? and seen and heard interviews with him?’
yes, and read three biogrophies of him. i liked melissa t casey’s the best.
well there you go. now i am going to ask you again to turn around and leave.
it is a long way back to the quaintly rustic train station.
the guard took a phone off his belt. if you like, i can call and have a snack pack of sandwiches and a couple of bottles of water brought out to you. mister dream is always considerate of his fans.
i - i - this is very upsetting.
do you want the snack pack and water or not?
yes, i suppose so.
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