Lyra woke with a start. She had been dreaming about her father, once again. She was drenched in sweat, and got up to change her nightgown. Pantalaimon stirred at the foot of the bed.
It looked like early morning, so Lyra saw no need to go back to sleep. Pan got up and stretched.
"You've been dreaming about Lord Asriel again, haven't you," he remarked with a yawn.
"Come on. We're going for a walk," said Lyra briskly.
Without another word, Pantalaimon leapt off the bed and followed Lyra down the sleeping hallway of Jordan College. They neared the door that led to the gardens.
"We're not going to the bench, now, are we?" Pan complained, "It's freezing out there!"
Lyra kept her pace. The door was less than five feet away. Beyond that door, in the back of the gardens was a bench. This bench, where she once sat with her best friend and first love, Will, was where Lyra sat to think. She frequently visited if she was having a hard time with her studies or in trouble with one of the many occupants of Jordan.
Lyra reached for the door handle. It groaned, she winced. I hope no one's awake, Lyra thought desperately. Many a time had she been caught and punished for being caught on one of her night romps around the college. I need to figure out what these dreams mean.
About once a month, since she had returned to Oxford, she would have these strange dreams. They all consisted of a revisit to the Realm of the Dead, but instead of searching for Roger, she was searching for her father.