A young Caucasian woman sat in her pajamas at a desk in a small room that also contained two beds. She was busy typing out something on her typewriter and had been so for the past hour. Near her a lot of disorganized papers sat on the desk of various types. The woman's eyes were drooped as if sleep had been hard to come by recently.

Her head nodded slowly falling before she was able to bring it up and grab for a tea that was near her. Sipping the tea gave her a new kick and she was ready to write out the last few lines to whatever she was working on. As soon as she had written her last line she signed contently and said, "I'm finally done."

The woman removed the paper from the machine and moved to collect a group of papers that she grinned at. This had been an ongoing process for her. It was something she was rather proud of, but at the same time there was something that didn't seem normal about it all.

Her reverie was broken as another woman opened the door annoyingly. "Amy, are you done yet? I swear it's like nine and we're going to be late! And you know how Professor Miles is."

Amy looked at her watch completely stunned. Had she really been working on that document for the past couple of hours? Amy sprung up out of her chair and gathered some clothes before leaving out the door presumably for some type of shared bathroom.

The other woman left in the room silently shook her head at Amy's sometimes scatterbrainedness. With the way things were, a female had to be an excellent student to even have the chance at passing these classes. Amy was a good student, but sometimes she had been distracted by her recent side project.

Amy had claimed that if she didn't write out this distracting side project that she'd never get any sleep. She had been writing these fantasy type of stories rather religiously claiming that these were her dreams. Her roommate thought sometimes that Amy may be a bit barmy. Still, she wasn't there presently, so why not read the latest one?

The young woman picked up the paper that Amy had just discarded and started to read it silently out loud. "I'm on some type of street wearing blue like I am some type of doctor. The surroundings are weird as if it's not exactly the future, but halfway there. What shocks me the most is what I'm holding and treating as if it's a phone. Only this "phone" that I'm talking into is about the size of half of my hand. The weird thing is all of these weird things don't seem to faze me one bit as I talk to family completely ignoring it. It's like I belong there."

Amy came back all dressed just then and the woman tried to put the papers back as fast as she could. Unfortunately, she had been caught this time. "Oi, what are you looking at my stories for Sandy?"

"I'm just worried about you is all. Your studies have started slipping and I just wanted to see what the hoopla was all about."

Instead of chastising her for it, Amy found a bed and sat down resigned. "I know. Have you ever been bothered by something so much that you just can't think straight. I thought that maybe if I could write it out that it would all leave me. But, that's the thing. My dreams keep getting weirder and more impossible the deeper I explore them."

"Listen, Amy, it's important not to let your mind overwhelm you. The world frowns on women like us and the stress from that is enough to drive anyone crazy. Speaking of, if we don't get walking now than we will be late for sure."

Amy smiled as she reached for a backpack and put it on. "Ready when you are!"

Sandy did the same and they went through the door, closing and locking it behind them.

They walked in companionable silence through the busy hall full of their fellow female students before Amy almost mouthed something and decided not to say it.

Sandy laughed and asked, "What were you going to say?"

"It's just that, well it's nothing really."

"Out with it now. I don't want your mind lost during lecture. Your clouded enough as it is."

"You're a good friend, Sandy."

"The best, but that's not what you were planning to say was it?"

Amy laughed. Sandy always knew how to cut to the center of her bull. "What part did you actually read?"

"Something about walking down the street with a really small phone. Really? That's like that science fiction type of stuff."

"It's really weird how accustomed I am to all of it though, because I act as if that's my life."

"Our old Psychology professor used to say that dreams were like manifestations of what happened in our daily lives. Maybe that's what it all is."

"Except, with my dreams almost nothing is familiar to me. Even the name I answer to isn't mine. And that's what frightens me the most."

"Maybe it's an old relative or an old friend. Maybe something like that?"

Amy shook her head. "I've honestly never heard this name before in my life."

"Well, what is it already?"

Amy could not believe her own words as she stopped and answered, "Martha. Martha Jones…"