It never occurred to me until just recently that my dreams might be more than that. But now I think they must be. The unwieldy emotion of them, the pinpoint detail that nevertheless allows for a million interpretations, and always, always the same.

The first is violent and full of love. A ship carrying my family - my first family, ones who look like me - and an accident, or was it? And I know it cannot be a memory, because I was only an infant, and I can never recall these precise details when I try to. But I know the whole story, despite the lack of an investigation or any survivors other than me.

The second is only a few moments, repeated over and over. A boy, a togruta like me. And his face is similar to mine, and his eyes bore into mine and he bares his teeth and he gathers me into his arms.

The third is harder to think about. I've been having this "dream" for a couple of years now, and I almost didn't recognize the details when I encountered them in waking life. It begins exactly as one of the recent missions my sister and I have flown for the Rebellion. And then it… changes.

There have been others, day dreams, visions - I had been putting them up to being tired. But now that I have experienced them in the midst of a mission, and others have shared them, I realize what I've been calling dreams are something else.

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