You know the drill by now: BTTF isn't mine; it's the Bobs'. Lisa is mine. I borrowed a quote from "Doctor Who"; I'll give it back. Yadda yadda. If it was, Clara wouldn't be in this chapter. xp~ In joke alert: 1:14 is the date (Jan. 14) I wrote this.

Waking with a gasp, Doc Brown sat upright in bed. Again? he thought, taking a moment to catch his breath. He had lost count of the times he had dreamt of the one and only alien life form he had known in his life. Seeing her again, even in dreams, was nice and all, but this was getting monotonous.

He reviewed the dream in his mind and was astonished to notice he was shaking. Doc briefly wondered why when it hit him:

Lisa… The intense panic he had felt when she disappeared in his dream. He didn't understand why, but when it happened, it felt like she was being cut off from him forever. He didn't like that notion. He didn't like not being able to contact her, and the dreams just added to the urge to find her.

The dreams. The dreams didn't seem like dreams. They were feeling more and more real every time he had one. If he didn't know any better, he could swear there was something mystical at work. But, that was impossible.

Or was it?

"Emmett?"

The voice directly beside him nearly startled the scientist out of his wits. When he had dislodged his heart from his throat, he turned to his wife, Clara Brown née Clayton.

Even in the darkness, he could see Clara's concerned face. Her dark hair stood out in a frizzy, sleep-tousled halo around her head.

"Yes, Clara? Did I wake you?"

"Not exactly," she answered. "What's wrong? Another dream?"

Doc had told Clara of the Lisa Dreams – he had dubbed them that after the first week passed and they hadn't let up – when they had started. She had smiled softly and attributed it only to the scientist missing the alien girl so much. Now, though, she was wondering if there was something else going on.

He nodded. "They're getting more and more real. At least, they feel real." Doc sighed and looked down. "I don't know what's causing these, Clara. I don't think it's a mere case of missing her."

"Emmett," Clara began, sitting up, then she paused and looked down at the bed covers. "Emmett, what's this?"

Doc looked up. Clara was holding something in her hand. He had to turn on the bedside lamp to see better. It looked like…

Lisa's picture frame!

"Great Scott!" he gasped softly, taking the frame from his wife. Yes, it was the same thing Lisa, and then himself, had been holding in his dream. It even had the photo of himself, Lisa, Marty, and Einstein with the old DeLorean time machine.

"This is the photo I saw in my dream. The one…the one Lisa wanted to give me." Doc gripped the frame in both hands. "I was holding it when I woke up."

Clara put her hand on his. "Emmett…"

"I know. I don't know how it happened. But…this could mean that there is something mystical at work. I have to find out a way to contact her; otherwise these dreams will drive me as crazy as those in Hill Valley think I am."

His wife leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. "Tomorrow, Emmett. It's the middle of the night."

But Doc shook his head. "I can't…" He then noted the time: 1:14 in the morning. "Maybe you're right." He put the photograph on the nightstand and shut off the light. "I'll sleep on it."

End part seven.