Chapter 10

“Tell me about your dream,” Carlton said as he started the truck and put it in gear, “and I mean every little detail you can remember.”

“Why?”

“Just do it, please?”

“Okay,” Eric said, and began to describe in detail what he remembered of the dream.

“Did the field hand have a name?” Carlton said. “And for the record, he wasn’t a field hand, he was a slave.”

“Say what?”

“Think about what you were wearing. It was mid-nineteenth century clothing, wasn’t it?”

“Geez, I don’t know. It felt odd, but the dream was so fleeting that I didn’t have time to analyze everything. And no, I don’t remember thinking about the guy’s name. Where’s this coming from, Carlton?”

“It’s coming from the fact that I had the same dream, and I do mean the same dream—except that I was the slave looking up at the master on his horse.”

“No way.”