Peter carried Oliver over to where the girl stood. “Here’s my lady, Ollie. Ollie, meet Dream; Dream, meet Ollie.” Oliver was nearly incapable of speech. With her olive skin, black curly hair, and green eyes, Dream was the most beautiful girl he’d ever laid eyes on. “God, that’s your real name?” Dream giggled. “Yes, it’s really Dream. Dream Willow Farell. My parents were rich hippies.”

Oliver laughed. “Christ, Pete…she’s beautiful. Should I be in America instead of England?” Peter laughed and threw his arm around Dream. “She’s coming with us on tour. I figured you two would get along just grand, since she reminds me so much of you. I found her in a club with a black leather getup like you’re wearing now. You two will probably be trading makeup and skirts any day now.”

Oliver realized that he was staring quite hard at Dream, but he couldn’t avert his eyes. “I do hope that we’ll become friends. Dream…that’s amazing. It’s so perfect for you. You do really look like something out of a wonderful dream.”