Ugh. Well here it is. Or at least the first part of it.

Don't stone me.

Episode 3

Part 1

I woke up groggily. It's still dark. It is not time to get up yet so I snuggled deeper into my bedcovers. My bed has never felt so comfortable. I feel as though I were wrapped in silks and satins as I closed my eyes sighing contentedly into my pillow.

But there is something I'm missing. Something obvious.

I opened my eyes again reluctantly, trying to decide what was out of place. The faintest of vibrations is coming up through my bed. It is not unpleasant; in fact it is strangely relaxing. My brain is still hazy with sleep as I conclude that someone must have their car running just outside on the road. That is what it feels like.

But it is so dark. Usually even with the curtains drawn at the darkest time of night light from the street lamp outside would lend plenty of light to see the outlines of my bedroom's furnishings, but it is black as pitch.

I lay still. I listen, feeling the quiet thrum. I am alert, my thoughts very logical and clear.

I sat up in bed. Maybe the street lamp is broken. I ran my hands over my bedcovers. They feel strange. It is not my fleece throw blanket. It is a thick bed spread that feels expensive though I cannot see it.

I am not alarmed because I am beginning to realize what is happening. I am still dreaming.

I pushed the covers back slowly, acutely aware of their foreign feel. Every sensation is sharp and clear.

"It's so realistic," I think relishing the crisp cool touch of the sheets as they slide from my skin.

I moved my hands over my person. My fingers meet a thin material like polyester. The garment is short enough to be a nightie but it doesn't feel like pjs.

"At least I'm wearing something," I conclude wryly, though it occurs to me vaguely that I could change what I'm wearing in a dream.

But there is no time for that. I want to learn more about my surroundings which is nearly impossible in the darkness. I dangle my legs over the side of the bed and my toes meet rich carpet. The thrumming is more powerful as if the floor is closer to its source.

Why is this vibration so familiar?

As soon as I am out of the bed, a dim glow illuminates the room. Not bright enough to be painful to my adjusting eyes, but bright enough for me to finally see everything easily.

The room is decorated strangely. Exotically I suppose. The walls are a deep velvet color and the ceiling is black with shimmering little lights lending to the luminescence of the room. It was designed to look like the night sky looking down on the occupant in all of its splendor.

The bed I had arrived in was large and as luxurious in appearance as it had felt. The bedclothes were all dark with silver sheets, in keeping with the theme of the room. I would not have thought so many dark colors could be appealing but it was very tasteful. I felt as though I was floating in space.

My toes touched something lying on the carpet by the bedside. I look down. Glossy black flats sat as if thoughtfully placed for my convenience. I catch my breath as my hands stray to the light fabric of my dress. This is familiar. I slip my feet into the shoes trying to stay calm.

It wouldn't do to wake myself with the excitement of the realization breaking upon me like a wave.

Do you know that feeling – like part of you is about to burst with emotion, but somehow externally you are very calm and clear though you don't know how you could possibly have clear thoughts at such a time as this? Well that is how I feel right now as I step slowly around the room towards the double doors leading out of my room.

My room? Another one of those things I just know. I will have to give some serious thought to this later.

I move deliberately. Each motion controlled as I drink in each color, sensation, and emotion. I know what that vibration is. I am in a room in the Tardis. My own room. How or why are questions that my logical mind is wrestling with but, as before I am just going with the moment. If I really stopped to contemplate I think I would explode. No seriously.

Oh goodness. I think I'm fan-girling.

I am watching myself pull open the doors. I am both very aware of my physical body and watching from an external viewpoint at once which I think should be confusing, but it is that dream thing where you just accept and move along.

And so I am moving. The corridor is thrumming more than my bedroom had been. It has that strange glow typical of the Tardis interior. The thick carpet comes to an end and there is the cold metal flooring and the strange, bulbous lights lining the hallway. There are other doors but I ignore them. I know where I am going.

I come to an entryway with a ramp leading up. I know where I am though I cannot see the familiar console from where I'm standing just inside the bowels of the marvelous ship. Although a part of me is wondrously detached, keeping me calm, I am finding it very difficult to breathe again.

Soft metallic sounds reach me sporadically and an occasional whirring and I know that he is there just above. He is tinkering as ever with his Tardis.

With a calming breath I step through the doorway and climb the ramp. He is standing over the console engrossed in whatever changes he is trying but likely failing to make. I purposely scuff my toe on the metal grating to let him know I am here and his head jerks up.

"You're awake," he observes, coming over to me. There is graveness about him and I see David Tennant. He is looking down at me and I feel small beneath his gaze.

"What happened?" I ask.

"You don't remember?" he raises an eyebrow as he studies me.

I remain silent and he explains.

"You just fell asleep. Keeled right over," his eyes are searching. Concerned.

He was worried for me.

"Well, I'm all right now," I soothed.

"Quite right," he says, but he doesn't stop looking.

I am still a mystery. I think about telling him that this is a dream, that he is a figment of my imagination but I cannot bring myself to. Would it spoil it? Well whether it would or not it felt so real and that is what matters right? I have determined to enjoy every aspect of this dream unspoiled by thoughts of what is and is not true.

I spin away from his searching eyes allowing some of my emotion to seep through my shell of control. I am smiling and exuberant again and I can feel he is drawn to my wonder. He is the Doctor. Wonder and new things are what keep his long life bearable in spite of the terrible things he has experienced.

"What are you doing to the Tardis?" I ask. I am at the console looking at all the gizmos and gears.

He proceeded to spout a string of techno babble and I laughed at him. He paused with a bewildered look on his handsome face.

"Well you asked," he said in a slightly offended tone.

"You're right I did," I conceded apologetically.

His eyebrow rises and he strides across the distance between us, joining me at the console.

"Who are you, Lillian?" he demands quietly.

I don't know what to say but luckily I am saved as suddenly there is a violent jolt throwing us both bouncing off the console and onto the floor. The Doctor is up almost instantly running around the console eyeing readouts on the screen and flipping switches.

I amuse myself with watching his antics, content to remain on the cold floor of the bucking Tardis as something began to pull it from the time vortex where we had been drifting. I link my arm around one of the metal banisters to keep myself as stable as possible, but I regret it as a particularly violent jerk nearly pulls my shoulder out of socket.

It's strange that my body is registering pain so clearly, considering I'm dreaming.

With an anti-climatic shudder the movement stops, leaving me feeling as though something was missing.

"What happened?" I questioned, still on the floor.

"I think the Tardis was bored," he replies though he doesn't sound a hundred percent certain. "Care to see where we've ended up?"

He is offering his hand to me and I think my heart has gotten stuck in my throat.

I take it. His hand is cool to the touch though not unpleasantly so. I've always wondered what it would be like to touch him considering his natural body temperature is lower that a humans. Now I know.

He helps me to my feet, practically lifting me and I am struck by the realization of his strength. He is leading me towards the door, the mystery of me temporarily forgotten in the wonder of new horizons.

He pauses at the door and turns to me. Shyly?

"Would you like to do the honors?"

I'm positively beaming, I can't help myself. "Yes, please."

I released his hand and pushed both doors wide open.

We're in a field. Its vast expanse of long grasses extend as far as I can see from where I stand just inside the Tardis. The grass is shimmering with an internal brilliance so that it looks like deep emerald glinting in the daylight. There is a sound like a quiet ocean as the grass undulates in a stiff warm breeze.

He is holding my hand again and leading me out into the grass with the Tardis' doors swinging shut behind us. It is hard to describe the planet spread out before me. It is beautiful but the words sound strange when I try to describe it.

The grass is shimmering and as I spin I see a distant collection of natural stone archways and pinnacles of deep red stone. I suppose they could be comparable to the rock formations in Utah and Montana if you've ever seen them.

There are two suns here. One is large and white the other smaller and red and it is setting.

It's frustrating because I feel as though I am butchering the description but perhaps you can sense it?

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. The air smelled vaguely spicy like thyme and black pepper corn. The breeze is warm and it catches my hair playing with it in the light from the suns. It sets the grass tickling against my bare legs.

The light from the two suns caresses my face and the back and side of my body. They are warmer than our sun but even with their combined light they are less bright. Everything is so tangible that it breaks me from my reverie. It seems strange because in the back of my mind in that constant whispering that this is all a dream.

I open my eyes and catch him watching me. He blinks and turns away pretending to observe the world in front of us as I take the opportunity to watch him. I see the hints of many emotions beneath his nonchalant exterior. I wonder if I would notice them if I hadn't read and watched so much about him.

He is David Tennant. I can see all the spectrum of feeling that made the 10th doctor so brilliant now in the slight tensing of a jaw muscle or flicker of his eye.

He is holding out his hand to me, his fingers spread to accommodate mine. I accept his offer and we are off, striding across the grassy hills towards an unknown adventure.