The Library, Unseen University

Rincewind woke with a start in his tiny room above the Library. His heart hammered. Even in his dreams he ran from things. He had confused dream-images. That time he and Twoflower were escaping from the Wyrmberg on an imaginary dragon. And Twoflower had run out of imagination, and dragon, about forty thousand feet above the Circle Sea. The screaming. The falling. The view had been nice, taken objectively, but subjectively, he couldn't help reflecting that it was a view of a body of water he was soon going to impact from forty thousand feet up. Then Conina. Why Conina, she'd happened later, hadn't she? They'd been… she'd been…. naked…no clothes… then that feeling again of being two minds in one body and just a few seconds to reflect on being inside a metal tube strapped into a seat, looking at a girl in a uniform with an impossibly and to his mind indecently short skirt, and wondering why the language spoken was normal Morporkian with a Hublandish accent

-What is this "English"?

-What is this "Hublandish"?

-And these outlandish tubes of cloth on my legs?

-And where are my comfortable trousers, why am I in a raggy old dressing gown?

And in the confusion, to his horror, the Rincewind identity falling apart and tearing into confused shards with all memory of the Disc and the University and Ankh-Morpork going…

Ankh-More pork… something Fafard and the Grey Mouser encounter? The heaving stinking city of beggars in the Elric books? No, that was Nadsokar… Udrik was king bearing Hackmeat his cleaver, so who's Lord Veterinarian? Jesus, Avgust, you read too much fantasy sci-fi, it's getting into your dreams now..

As if there was a second voice in his head living a second life in an impossibly unimaginably different place and they were swirling together seeking mastery of one body.

Then….. extinction. Nothing. Then the racing cold again, but from much nearer to the sea this time with only seconds to gather his wits and get into a vertical diving position so it wouldn't sting so much when he hit.

It still stung.

And that feeling of, just for a few seconds, of having met a mind that in some indefinable way he could surely say was his. Poor bastard.

Rincewind sat bolt upright. His nerves tingled, his mind raced. If he smoked, he'd have been halfway into one by now. He sensed the Luggage stirring, ready to guard its Master.

"Nothing to worry about. Go back to sleep."

With a warm glow, Rincewind forced himself to recall the best bit. Conina. Naked and pleased to be with him, telling him he was no Nijel.

Only in my dreams, eh…