Dreams and mysteries

"Did you know, Scully, that nobody actually understands how dreams work?"

Scully sighed, rubbing her brow, the pay phone pressed to her ear. She was standing outside a diner in the small town of Redford, Virginia, watching cars trundle down the quiet main street. It had an old-fashioned feel, like a leftover from the 1950s. "Come on, Mulder. I agreed to drive all the way out here. The least you can do is get to the point."

"The point is," said Mulder, on the other end of the line, "that sleep is one of the biggest mysteries left to science. Not even the most cutting-edge research can explain why we need it. And dreams are even more mysterious. I'm only telling you this so you'll know what we're up against."

"You think we're up against dreams?"

"Look at the report, Scully. That's all I'm saying."

"Why can't you be here, anyway? This would be a hell of a lot easier with two of us."

"I told you, Scully, I'm waiting for a delivery. Some videotapes I need for my research."

"It's not porn, is it, Mulder?"

"I'm sorry, Scully, I have to go now. Goodbye."

The line went dead. Scully shook her head in disbelief. She'd looked at the report, and she knew Mulder's theory, but she just couldn't believe it. Giant blocks of cheese chasing people, farmers suddenly developing the ability to fly... it was all too ridiculous to be true. Did he really think that, in the small town of Redford, people's dreams were coming true?

The wind whistled down the street, snatching up fallen leaves and whirling them in the air, plucking at women's dresses and snatching men's hats off their head. Scully frowned. She had to admit, there was something odd about this place. Why were so many of the men wearing hats? Why were the women wearing those old-fashioned dresses? And why did her legs feel so cold?

She looked down.