Hmmmm. Is it possible? Did I write something…serious? Me? There must be something dreadfully wrong with me.

Anyway, it's another story about Leonard. Someone, stop me! It just sort of happened. In fact, it came to me in a dream….or at least that weird half-awake stage before you fall asleep.

Leonard isn't mine. If he was, I'd be ruling the world. And I certainly don't own Romeo and Juliet. Or Mercutio, more's the pity.

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"True, I talk of dreams,
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,
Which is as thin of substance as the air..."

--Mercutio, Romeo and Juliet

Leonard didn't sleep well. In fact, he hardly slept at all. Not because he wasn't tired; he was exhausted.

The problem was that if he slept, it was hardly any different than being awake. The ideas were always there, and he knew they wouldn't go away, never cease. That was fine. In time, he had learned to live with them.

But the dreams, they were…different. Worse.

Monstrous.

They were genius, in a way. He could never think of anything like them while awake.

He couldn't understand why they came to him. He didn't want them, didn't want to see the visions that crept into his subconscious and haunted him during his waking hours. He didn't want to think about what would happen if he actually built the inventions he dreamed of. He couldn't, because he knew that if he did, they would work. Perfectly.

So Leonard tried not to sleep. But even as he toiled over another drawing of an invention that would never function properly, he knew that later, he would give in, and the dreams would come again.

Finally, he realized. They weren't dreams. They were nightmares.

He just had to hope they weren't prophecy.