The blindingly white lights of our school gym were replaced with a huge disco ball and colored lights, but aside from these lights, the area was dark. Very dark. All around, the students in the school were clustered in groups, dancing to the hypnotic sound that was blaring out of the speakers. The same thing was going on in the hallways, in every classroom, in the office and outside on the field. The whole school was dancing, the whole world dimmed and sparkled noticeably, putting everyone who saw it and experienced it into a trance a hypnotized state.

Everyone was dressed up, the boys in dress shirts pulled loose from their chests, untucked. Every girl wore a tight or slinky dress with shoes too high to even be able to stand on, much less dance with. Every guy and girl had a match, they danced-or groped-each other hungrily, going mad to the music, expressing the mental instability through their bodies, taking advantage of the other person. Some of the boys tried to escape the girls, some of the girls tried to escape the boys. Some of the pairs were happy with what they were doing. Then, as I walked through the halls, wearing my blue-green dress and blissfully flat ballet shoes with my dark hair flowing down my back, I realized what the music was doing-showing us our inner selves, describing to us who we were and what we would do if we had no self control over ourselves. It was... barbaric, inhuman. The people in my school were monsters. Even the teachers were participating, and quite happily as well. As I passed my homeroom class, I felt a warm, slick hand touch my waist lightly.

I immediately entered self defence mode, and turned around slowly to make sure I knew who I was about to put in place. I was met with a face I knew far too well, looking down at me with far too much emotion. Too much... caring. Love. He has no control over himself right now, I thought, he can't help but show his feelings. I couldn't think of what to do fast enough, because before long his hand lay on my face, cupping my cheek. I was acutely aware of the pounding of the music, how it matched the beating of my heart, the pounding grew louder and more noticeable. His eyes closed...

As mine abruptly opened. I sat up in my bed, the vivid dream and clear sound of the music still beating in my head, imprinted forever on my eyes. And the boy, the boy I had seen, the boy who'd looked down at me so tenderly, wasn't just a figment of my imagination. The boys and girls that were dancing, the teachers, my school... they were all so realistic. But my dream wasn't, I thought. It wasn't. But then why was every little detail so exact, down to the numbers on the classroom doors, the plaques, the dresses. They were exactly how they were in real life, exactly how I'd seen them. And the boy, his eyes, his face, his clothes, his intoxicating smell, his warm hand, first on my waist then my cheek. I know his name, there's no way I could forget it, or him.

Out loud, I said: "Damon."