Before I ever heard her screams, I could feel her horror.
I was startled awake from my own nightmare, in which a handsome man poured suntan lotion all over me, thanks to the description of her nightmare. It was her imagination, not mine, that filled my brain with images of carnage, fire, and blood. My rational brain finally told me that I wasn't dreaming after being overwhelmed by the pictures. As I opened my eyes, my long, black hair was plastered to my forehead. On her bed, Lissa writhed and shouted. I leaped from my chair and hastily made my way across the room to where you were sitting.