George stared at the Protector as if he had gone mad.  His mind groped at what the Protector had just said, unable to comprehend.

“Just think of it,” said the Protector.  “A solid metal object suddenly is bendable.  Your father suddenly changes his behavior and eats—but doesn’t cast a normal shadow.  And the reality of what is going on, and our ability to distinguish between dreams and reality at all, seems to be getting harder and harder to discern …”

“But this is impossible!” cried George, even though he knew in his heart that what the Protector was saying was true.  “It can’t be!  How can reality turn into a dream?”

The Protector looked at him, but didn’t answer.

George suddenly got up, and started to pace back and forth.  “Am I dreaming this?  Are you telling me this in a dream?  Or is this real?   When does the dreaming stop, and the realness start?”  He turned on the Protector, his eyes wide with terror.  “When?!!”

“I can’t answer your questions,” said the Protector.  “Indeed, I feel the same way.  At times, when I see something clearly impossible, I realize I must be dreaming—yet this cannot be a dream, because I dreamed last night.  Or that is, at least I think I did.”

“What do we do?” cried George, grabbing the Protector’s shirt again.  “We’ve got to do something!”  He paused.  “And when do we do it?  Now?  Or tonight when we might be dreaming—or awake!”

The Protector stood up, and carefully removed George’s hands from the front of his shirt yet again.  “Come with me,” he said simply.  “There’s something else I dreamed last night, that I want you to see.”  He turned and walked slowly across the clearing.

George followed.  One of the numbered balls hit him in the shin, and stung.  Surely, he must be awake, to feel the sting of that!

“Foul!” cried one of the Dluronians, pointing triumphantly at the fellow who had hit George with the ball.  “You hit him, and you’re out!”

Then, they were out of the clearing and fighting their way through the bush again.  George followed close behind the Protector, hacking at the branches and undergrowth that seemed to be constantly swinging up in front of his face.

They broke through into another clearing—the clearing where the teddy bear ship was sitting.  The Praetorians were still there, dancing crazily, with Emberly in their midst.  Didn’t they ever stop dancing?

“Over here,” beckoned the Protector toward George.  “Behind the ship, by engine number 2.”  Following the Protector around the ship, George suddenly saw one of the last things in the world he had expected to see.

“Amazing, eh?” said the Protector with a flourish.  “Right out of my dream, and here next to the ship.  The very thing we need!”

It was the transporter!  It looked like a door frame, made out of some strange gauzy, colorful fabric, in which the colors were constantly changing.  On the right side was the little black box that looked like a remote control.  It was the box that allowed the Protector to choose where they would go when they stepped through it.  If he entered the right coordinates, they could step through it to anywhere they wanted to go in the universe!

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“Does it work?” said George softly, as he stepped up to it, and touched the gauze gently.

“I don’t know,” replied the Protector.  He walked carefully all around it.  “It certainly looks real, and it should work.  But you have to remember that this transporter came as the result of a dream.  If it worked, it would take us away from the dream magic of this world.  So, while it may work here, I’m not as sure it will work on the other end.”

“But if it doesn’t work on the other end, then where will we …”  George’s words trailed off slowly. 

“Exactly,” said the Protector, reading his thoughts.  “It will obviously be very risky to use it, since we may step into nowhere!  Yet, I’m afraid, with what we have discovered today, we’re probably going to have to use it soon—and do so without delay!”

George looked at the Protector curiously.  “What do you mean?  How long do we have, before we have to use it?”

“It’s hard to tell,” said the Protector simply.  “The power of this planet seems to be picking up speed, the longer we stay.  We only discovered the reality of our dreams yesterday, yet today they seem much stronger.  Before, it took a week for the things we dreamed about to materialize.  Now, they do it in a day.”

“But there’s something else,” said the Protector slowly.  “I’m very careful about when I get up in the morning.  I believe firmly in maintaining a consistent pattern of rising at the same time.  But, I’ve noticed that each morning of the past week, I’ve been getting up later and later.  I just couldn’t seem to help it.  And I’ve also noticed that we’ve all been going to bed earlier and earlier.  We just feel the need to—we’re tired sooner.”

“That’s true!” cried George in sudden realization.  “I hadn’t thought of it, but we did all go to bed earlier last night!”

“Don’t you feel tired now?” asked the Protector, tellingly.  “Wouldn’t you like to go to bed soon?”

George hesitated for a moment.  But the Protector was right.  He felt exhausted.  The thought of bed and sleep was wonderfully appealing—and frightening.

“So, what does it mean?” asked George worriedly.

“Unless I miss my mark,” said the Protector slowly, “I think it means that if we are ever to go through the transporter at all, we’d better do it tomorrow.”

George looked at the Protector, fear mounting in his heart.  He knew what the Protector meant, even though he hadn’t said it. 

They had to go through tomorrow—because after that, they might never wake up!