Mindy walked into the kitchen and found that Otis, her husband of four years, was still typing away. She had no idea what he did for work, really. As she approached, he quickly shut off the computer and walked over to her.
Mindy hardly noticed this; she was already detailing the events of her dream to Otis. She didn’t even realise her daughter had begun painting the floor.
“It looked exactly like me, but it wasn’t me, she was a Duchess and she was putting on makeup and I saw her look in the mirror – but I wasn’t looking in the mirror, it was her, it was so strange – I never even remember most of my dreams, but I can recall every detail of this one – don’t you think that’s strange, Otis?”
“Go back to bed, Mindy”, sighed Otis, exasperated at his dumb wife.
As she wandered back to their bedroom, Otis watched her to make sure she did as she was told. He then ripped off his jacket, sat down at his computer again, and began to type – frantically.
He had to get in contact with management – how had this happened? How had Mindy come so close to . . . the other Mindy?