It was the same as it was every night. There I was in the same dark room, and there were my friends, Lindbergh, Vicki, Waldo and all the others, gathered around the same confounded table they were in every dream, performing the same doomed experiment. As I watched them, I noticed, as I always did, that something didn't look right. The chemicals they were mixing were too volatile, and anyone with any training in chemistry could tell that there was a great risk of a dangerous reaction. The people gathered around the table however, had no training. As I looked on with apprehension, I saw Waldo pick up a beaker of what I could tell to be myamila gerisolite, a highly explosive agent even under the best of circumstances, and move to pour it into the compound. Knowing that I couldn't let this happen, I tried frantically to get the attention of one of them. Finally, my calling and arm-waving got the attention of Vicki, who smiled and waved me over. I ran over, in the hopes that I could stop this experiment before it went too far. It was too late. The chemical had been poured; the damage had been done. I heard a ground-shaking explosion, and saw a large cloud of smoke. I felt myself being thrown backwards by the blast, but I knew I was the only one. I couldn't see them, but I knew the others had been caught up in the explosion. Suddenly, I felt myself falling rapidly...

... and immediately found myself screaming as I fell out of bed.

As soon as my body hit the floor, I sat up and breathed heavily, trying to calm myself down. I'd experienced that dream-no, nightmare-for weeks upon end now and didn't know how to prevent it. At first I thought it would pass, but now...


Looking up, I saw my friend and roommate standing at the doorway of my room in his pajamas, tiredly rubbing his eyes. Floating beside him was a little computer graphic who yawned. "What're you doing screaming in the middle of the night?" my friend drowsily asked me.

Apparently, my scream of fright had awoken them from their slumber. Not knowing how to answer either of them, I simply remained silent.

"Did you have a bad dream or something?" the floating creature asked. "Must've been really loud..."

"You were screaming like you just saw something bad, or something," the other added.

I could not believe how correct both Lindbergh and Waldo were... "... well, yes," I replied, "but… you see… I've been having this.. dream for..."

"I know, nights now," my kiwi friend finished, moving to kneel beside me on the floor.

"We've been hearing that same scream for lots of nights in lots of weeks now," the graphic said, his drowsy eyes looking at me. "What's going on with you? You're not glitching or anything, are you?"

"No, Waldo, I'm not glitching..." To be perfectly honest, I had been asking myself the same question ever since I first had that nightmare. The friends, the dark room, the chemicals, the explosion... it could possibly mean only one thing... "Lindbergh, I think my past is coming back to haunt me..."

Lindbergh looked me over. "... your past? ... like, when you became-"

"Yes, that." Lindbergh was the only one other than myself that knew about what happened to me… how I became the way I am today...

But he, ever the optimist, tried his best to reassure me that things were okay. "Aw, don't get yourself worried about this stuff, Digit. Maybe you did something all those nights to make you have that dream... like some of your wires got crossed again." He paused. "... do you want me to look?"

"... no," I said after a period of silence, crawling back up to my bed. "I think I can make it..."

He looked sort of sad after I said that. "Well, okay," he said, then he returned to a semi-chipper voice. "I hope you get to feeling better... Good night, Digit."

"Good night, Lindbergh, Waldo," I nodded as they were leaving.

Poor little Waldo, ignorant of what had went on in years past (as he was not even there with me until the 1980s), raised an eyebrow in confusion. "When what happened-?"

"It's a long story, Waldo," Lindbergh interrupted, leading him out of the room. "Digit doesn't like to talk about it."

"Aww, but I wanna know!" the graphic whined. "He's basically my dad; dads are supposed to tell stories of the good old days when they rode trolleys to work and when sugar costed ten cents a bag and stuff like that!"

"It's hard to understand if I told you, Waldo," was one of the last things I heard Lindbergh say that night. "Maybe he can tell you all about it someday." Then he closed the door and went back to his room to sleep again, Waldo no doubt floating back to his computer resting site with questions in his computer-generated head still unanswered.

Lindbergh had been one of my oldest and dearest friends. He's been with me ever since the accident and has never left me since. We were so close that we even moved in together after I was released from the hospital. From then on, we've pretty much been inseparable, partially because we became best friends, and partially because he's one of the only ones that knows how to actually fix me whenever I glitch.

Then there was Waldo C. Graphic, the self-proclaimed "spirit of 3-D". He was a playful computer graphic who always had fun on the job and elsewhere. The little graphic had gone through a lot, including major redesigns from when I first activated him on a computer. I consided him to be the closest thing to a son that I'd ever have. After all, I basically coded him from scratch and activated him at all those places, including our former workplace, Muppet Central.

Of course, that's not to say that I don't have other friends. There're the members of Solid Foam, a band that I was in back in the Eighties (and a little bit earlier). I played keyboard, Clifford played bass, Beard was our guitarist, Flash on saxophone (although he could also play the fiddle), and his girlfriend Francine was our drummer. We were close as well, and it seemed as if we knew what was going on with each other, especially during that one period of time...

So many other names came to my mind. There was Kermit the Frog, my boss and friend. Gonzo was also there, that delightful little alien who loved dangerous stunts and poultry. So was Leon, Kermit's chameleon cousin and con artist. Still more were Dr. Bunsen Honeydew, his assistant Beaker, and all of the Electric Mayhem.

And then there was that one name that was so dear to my heart. The very mention of it sent a vision of happiness and loveliness to my mind. She was always so happy and upbeat, with the sweetest personality I could ever think of. She was so beautiful and magnificent, a real angel on Earth... at least to me.

At that moment, my hands felt over just a few of the items that I had taken out during my moments of solitude. A high school diploma... a photo album... a college degree... a paper heart... All of them brought back so many memories...

I knew that I couldn't go back to sleep. My mind was wide awake and didn't want to shut down for the rest of the night. Having nothing else to do, I sat down at my desk and booted up my laptop. Then, when everything was situated, I started to reminisce about the times gone by, typing memories that flooded into my mind down on the computer.