Hector moved through the noisy throng at Flores’ mansion. At the party, he saw all kinds of people. Flores was walking beside him, extolling the finesse of his manor. “Hector, it’s brilliant! All of my drug-dealing friends from all around the world! And no pesky policemen here to interfere with our business!” Hector glanced at some seedy-looking men playing cards. He passed two South American gentlemen discoursing upon the benefits of suppressed weapons. Leaning against one wall was a tall, spindly man with a tiny mustache. That must be the police captain. I wonder when he’ll start the raid?

After the four courses of an elaborate dinner had passed, Hector came across Dante in a corner.

“Dante, we should get out of here. The police are about to arrive.”

Dante raised one eyebrow. “The police?”

Hector nodded. “They’re here right now! Look,” he said, and pointed out a window. It was dark outside, but both men could make out muted shadows congregating around the mansion.

“There are thirty-seven of them: heavily armed, experienced fighters… you know the drill. Classic SWAT team, am I right? They’re about to kill basically everyone in here. You need to escape. Actually, you should probably go now.”

Dante blinked, turned, and walked out of the building unapprehended. As Hector watched him go, counted down in his mind. Three, two, one. Glass shattered, a man yelled out a warning, and police officers gushed through the windows. Gunfire erupted. As Hector watched the partygoers whip out weaponry, he realized that they all looked unfamiliar. He couldn’t find Flores either. Where did he go?

Suddenly, a bullet slammed into Hector’s breastbone. He staggered, but managed to keep his balance. Taking a look at where the wound should’ve been, he only saw a silvery-blue glow. The wound had closed up as quickly as it had appeared. Um, Hector thought. I didn’t see that coming. Somehow, he remained completely calm as the two sides emptied their magazines at each other. Bullet after deadly bullet whizzed past Hector. He turned, unruffled, and started to walk out of the room.

His lower leg was spontaneously intercepted by a 7.62x39mm NATO full metal jacket round.

Hector gaped at the hole in his leg as his flesh rippled and writhed. Slowly, the gash closed up, leaving only a trace of blue behind. Funny. I don’t feel anything. I am dreaming, though, aren’t I?

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he was on the ground, staring up at a smooth black rifle barrel pointed directly at his face. A thin arm attached the gun to the police captain from earlier, except that he looked a little different. Something about him is off… He looks shorter. And fatter. Greasier maybe? Hector shivered in displeasure. He was already greasy enough. The man abruptly fired the gun after muttering something about seeing Hector before. The bullet passed through Hector’s head and then into the wood floor, leaving no trace of its momentary transit through his frontal cortex.

Hector reached up and felt his forehead. A tingling sensation engulfed his fingers. The police captain stared as if he had seen a bullet wound miraculously disappear. In fact, he had.

Then a burst of bright blue light consumed Hector’s senses.

***

Hector was back where he had started, walking through the mansion. This time, however, the rooms he entered were all empty. Nothing could be heard except the faint crunch of his boots on glass. There were no bodies, but blood lay in puddles and overturned furniture was scattered about the dining room as Hector stepped inside. He didn’t know where he was going- his feet moved of their own accord. He stopped walking as he neared the place where the police captain had shot him. Everything was exactly the same as before, except that where the bullet had pierced his head and scarred the floor, a small blue plant had taken root. Hector furrowed his eyebrows. What… What is that? He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had seen it before.

Hector reached down to touch the plant. Its cool, silvery-cobalt fronds tingled as if electrified.

Realization and shock flooded through his body. The Mexican infinity fern, of course! The memory of finding it came back to him. Injecting it into his body and then going unconscious. Trying to figure out how he had survived the shooting. All of these moments coalesced into one single thought.

It’s called the infinity fern for a reason.

And finally, after two of the most lifelike dreams he had ever encountered, Hector woke up.