There is a large nightclub. The dance floor is huge with a series of balconies overlooking it. A band plays on stage, very animated, very alive, and the dancers are writhing about on the dance floor. I am standing on one of the balconies looking down on them. I am dressed in a long black coat with a white shirt and black pants.

Behind me is a small cocktail table with three people sitting at it. One is the "vampire" I met nine years ago, a woman who tried to convince me that those who have died and returned need to feed off the energy of "the living" in order to quicken themselves. The second is one of the red riders who often appears on horseback in dreams, but here he is dressed only in a red, longsleeved shirt, sipping a drink. The third I do not recognize. He is very dark and shadowy.

"You are very tired. Sit down and join us," says the vampire. I look at her, remembering when I met her in walking life. She explained to me how she preyed upon the weak and needy, offering them what they wanted, never what they needed, but taking what she needed from them in the process.

"I cannot rest now."

"You have had a long journey. Sit. Drink with us."

"What do you want?"

"To reward you for your hard work."

I turn and look back down on the dance floor. I feel the energy rising up from it, a ball of confusion, sorrow, anger, joy and madness. None of it is focused. None of it is going anywhere, aside from bouncing around randomly. Suzy over there used to sleep with Rick, but now she avoids him like the plague. James used to be interested in Sally, but ever since Sally gave him her phone number she hasn't called. Ray is trying not to let his friends find out that he is secretly gay. He is part of a group of "regular guys" who would not receive the information gladly, although one of his friends with him tonight is well aware and accepting. He has problems with the others. Amanda is worried that tonight she'll meet Mr. Right because she just started her period last night and this always seems to happen to her. None of them are after much of anything, except for someone to quicken them, like the vampire at the table does. They are just much less efficient at it.

"Join us, it is on us."

"The house always pays my tab," I remark, somewhat disgustedly, but mostly in a show of pride and power. It is what they like to see. They smile.

"And this house that pays your tab here, do you know who they are? Can you frame a face?"

"The Archangel Anastasia looks after me."

"One should be smarter than to put their trust into fallen angels."

"She is only fallen in your eyes. Anyone that honestly questions the truth and finds their own answers is not fallen. They are enlightened."

"The Angel of the Forgotten and Lost, your precious Anastasia, has no real power. She looks after lost kittens and stray dogs. She only concerns herself with the depressed, hopeless and suicidal zombies that walk your frame. She doesn't even notice the truly blessed."

"And who is truly blessed?"

"Those who rise to their potential. Those who reach the pinnacle of their field. Those who consume and embrace power and strength. You can do much better. You could use what you know and what you feel and see for your benefit instead of wasting your talents trying to help those who are already damned. Now is the time for you to rise."

I looked away from them, staring down at the twisted and contorted emotions that were swinging on the dance floor. I heard the voice, and I saw her face in my mind.

It is now that they shall test you. Be aware. I am with you.

With that, Anastasia is gone, and so is the cocktail table with the dark trio. I fly over the dance floor. I feel tears in my eyes. They rain onto the crowd. Moments later there is a rainstorm inside the club.

There is pure chaos for a time, after which I find myself on a raft floating down a badly flooded city street. A mangy dog is staring at me from a plank of wood he is floating on. I see no signs of human life.

I step off the raft. For four or five steps I am walking on water, then the surface breaks and I sink to my waist. The water is only three feet deep.*

The water was never any deeper than it is now. Remember this.

* This eludes to my death experience, where I was on a tiny raft of a river by myself, unable to help people who cried out to me. This was ostensibly because there was no room on the raft for anyone other than me. However, at no point in my death experience did I ever determine or become aware of the depth of the water in the river. If it had only been three feet deep, then it changes the meaning of those events. "There is more to a glass of water than the water and the glass."

This dream has been repeating for the past week, complete only once, in segements the following nights.