When he succeeded in getting his brain to stop sending him perverse and gory images involving tubes, Lovehaste and (for some reason he didn't wish to investigate) a gigantic syringe, he ended up dreaming another dire dream.

He was in a cave and there was some sort of orb hanging from the ceiling, covered in tiny square mirrors. It threw a profoundly bewildering and not really all that illuminating light over the unfriendly black rocks.

Some discordant violin music started up. Barbossa groaned. What's wrong with my dreams? Why can't I just have dreams about being chased by evil carrots through seas of lemonade, or of playing the flute in my drawers to a hundred grumpy Naval officers? Eh? Why do people always SING?

Ghastliness was soon realised as Lovehaste stepped out of the shadows, wearing so little that Barbossa protectively shut his eyes. She had also gone mysteriously blonde, which made her look like some part of her ancestry had involved a yellow sheep, and was wearing unnaturally red lipstick that showed up the unhealthy pallor of her skin.

"Hector, I know you're going to be upset," she started to sing (if you could call it singing- Barbossa had heard Lovehaste sing and had been put in mind of a sow in labour), "as I was always your biggest sore. But you should know by now, that I'm not healing."

"Yer got that spot on," muttered Barbossa. "Yer've grown on me- like a fungus." He risked one eye. Lovehaste was wearing a pair of very, very tight black breeches in a mysterious stretchy material, which showed off the toothpick-like qualities of her legs, a black belt around her (admittedly very slender and trim) waist, and a black corset designed for someone rather more substantial, and incidentally with breasts like pyramids. Barbossa hurriedly shut the eye again.

"You always ignored right and wrong, so I needn't explain it in this song. I'll just let you know now that I know how you're feeling.."

"The hell yer do!" Barbossa exclaimed, because he was cautiously sneaking glances through slitted lids and had seen Lovehaste dancing about with horribly wild abandon. Skipping back and forth seemed to be involved a lot. If she had any thought for how he felt, she'd go away, put some clothes on and then incinerate herself.

"The subject that always made you shout, the thing you warned me all about... I've got something to confess, so please don't hit the ceiling. Please..."

"Argh," Barbossa said, by way of commentary. Lovehaste was attempting to gyrate.

"...Hector don't screech, you'll just make me weep. Hector don't screech, you're dreaming and you're asleep. But I've made up my mind, we've got to bring up this baby."

"Ye must be JOKING." Even as the words sidled out of his lips, he knew she wasn't. No one wearing a corset with two pointy cones attached had any sense of humour whatsoever. If they had, they'd have glanced down and died laughing by now.

"Ooh, we've got to keep the baby," Lovehaste continued. She was unstoppable, and she was jumping around.

"You say that you could never stay with me, you're death-on-legs and you adore the sea. You think I should be put to the sword, or lobbed overboard."

Barbossa looked embarrassed. He hadn't realised he was thinking that quite so loudly.

"But I know the real reason why you sail! And I know that you're not so weak and frail! I know the hopes you've had that at your soul have gnawed... please..."

"The crew of the Pearl is my family, though! I don't need an extra one with a female in it!" he protested. "Stop yer singing, please!"

"...Hector don't screech, you're in this way too deep. Hector don't screech, you're dreaming and you're asleep. I've made up my mind, we're going to bring up this baby. Ooh, we're going to bring up this baby..."

"Do I not get a say?" exploded Barbossa.

"Hector Hector, if only you'd understand, how meticulously I've got this planned. This isn't some clever plot twist. I am in love. I am in love... so please..."

This creeped out Barbossa a little too much. He drew his pistol (apparently he dreamed full weaponry too. Cool.) and fired a shot at the glittery orb thing. It exploded and the music blacked out with the light. Lovehaste never reached the chorus.

Breathing heavily, despite the fact it was a dream, Barbossa turned about 180 degrees and ran into the total blackness. Because he was dreaming, he felt like he was running through syrup.

"Just going for a jog, mate?" asked a familiar voice. "Or did yer decide the handbasket was taking too long, and wanted to run all the way ter Hell in case you missed the overture?"

Barbossa stopped mid-run. "Jack," he hissed between his teeth.

A vague blue light undulated into being, illuminating Jack, who looked perfectly at ease floating on nothingness and eating a banana suggestively. Barbossa winced. "Long time no see, Barbie," he smirked. "Incidentally, I'm about four days away from being eaten by a giant squid beastie. With mucus."

"It's these little homely touches that make the difference," growled Barbossa.

"So yer'd better hurry along to Tia Dalma's so's yer can save me, savvy?" Jack added, and finished off the banana with some tongue curling trick that made thousands of tiny little cold feet walk all over the inside of Barbossa's skin. "I can only keep my hat from being digested for a certain amount of time."

"Why not just buy a new one and save me the trip?" Barbossa suggested wearily, and was predictably ignored.

"I 'spect yer wondering how to find me. Well, wonder no more, Barbie matey. I happen to have here... A MAP."

"Aye?" Now there was a surprise.

"Watch," Jack told him importantly, and turned his banana skin inside out. A small scrunched up piece of paper dropped out and rolled around the floor.

"Well done," Barbossa said. "Most children prefer marbles, but I suppose we have ter make allowances for yer..."

The little paper ball, however, had big ideas. When it grew up it wanted to be... huge...

It was unravelling and expanding like an exploding chrysanthemum made of parchment. As Barbossa watched with detached terror, origami folds swallowed up his legs and billowed around his waist.

Jack was borne aloft by several pages. "See yer later, crocodile!" he called. Barbossa sighed, but was lost in the rising paper.

Suddenly aware he might stop breathing if the paper surrounded him, he began to claw at it. Wherever he touched the paper peeled away slightly to reveal a silvery film underneath. No matter how he scratched and scratched, more and more layers of silvery stuff apppeared, writhing before his eyes, into new and frightening shapes. As the leafs rose higher and higher, and the space he stood in became tighter and tighter, he caught himself thinking, maybe Lovehaste's singing isn't all that bad...

He woke up.