[ WP ] Dreams have all been tests , and someone finally passed .

So, I passed. I did n't even know I was in the running. I did n't know there *was* a running. Obviously, I do n't know how I passed, and apparently neither does anyone else. The Guardians just sent me an email -- as if I needed one after the trumpets-blaring, angels-in-glorious-white-robes spectacle that jolted me awake at 3:34 a.m. -- saying I had passed the test, and congratulations. Now they're leaving. They've been leaving for a year. Only a few are left. 
 
 My husband is getting pretty weird about this whole thing. At first, he was supportive, and happy about the money from the talk show circuit, but we did n't really need it, technically speaking, and I stopped after a couple of months. Maybe it was because we did n't really need the money that he started being, I do n't know, weird about the dream thing. 
 
 `` There's got to be something else,'' he keeps saying. 
 
 `` Like what?'' 
 
 `` I do n't know. Something. You're the most famous person in the world, right now, but nothing has changed, really.'' 
 
 `` What do you want to be different?'' 
 
 He has no answer. It's not as if I do n't understand his frustration. And my parents', and my sister's, and my town's, and the whole damn planet's. Depending on whose blog you read, the Guardians were either what pulled us from the horrors of the twenty-first century or what kept us from finally realizing the glories of a true libertarian global economy. But mostly the first one -- I read too many fringe blogs, I guess. Only the true crazies can pretend life has n't been a million times better since the Guardians showed up. I remember my Mom's stories about wondering who to fear more: the Islamic terrorists or the government spies. She had a brother who was shot by a cop. I mean, I know everyone's Mom or Dad seems to, you know, but how weird is that? Killed by a police officer. She said she felt unsafe jogging alone at night when she was in college. How did women get any exercise back then? I remember she would n't let me walk across town to play with my best friend in first grade -- it was right after the Guardians showed up, but things were still pretty bad -- she felt she had to drive me everywhere farther than half a block. Who wants to go back to that world? 
 
 But that's where we're headed, or so everyone is saying. Countries are starting to put soldiers and tanks and stuff on their borders and stockpile missiles or rockets or something. African and South American nations are talking about teaming up. They say they have to protect themselves from the used-to-be-the-richest countries, who want to take their ore or something like that. I do n't even know how to process this. It's just too scary. I ca n't go back to my Mom's world. 
 
 I'm getting death threats. At first they tore me up, and I cried for days. Then I guess I just got used to them. They still make me sad and afraid, but only, like, medium. Not a whole lot. I ca n't blame them, is the problem. From the point of view of the people who want me dead, my dream is the reason we lost the Guardians. It's my fault. I do n't agree, or mostly I do n't, but I understand the frustration. 
 
 I keep thinking about that dream. I've been hooked up to so many machines, been interviewed by so many doctors, that I sometimes do n't think I remember it right at all. But when I close my eyes and breathe deep, I can recall everything. Nobody knows why my dream passed the test, or if they do, they're not sharing. I did some calculations, once, and figured there were about fifty trillion human dreams while the Guardians were on earth. Why was mine special? Nobody even knows what the test was. But the dream had puppies in it, and my seventh-grade boyfriend, who is fat now, and lives in Akron, but I loved him anyway. We kissed. It had the most beautiful music -- I think it was Sly and the Family Stone. There was a scary part with a crazy guy with dark skin and a gun, but then that ended and I was driving with my Mom and my Dad. They were both in the car, and they were n't fighting. They held hands. It was a really great dream.
