[This is directly transcribed, without changes or edits, from a journal entry dated September 28th, 1998]
Dream of a child, born late and fully formed — with an unmistakeable look of recognition in her clear blue eyes.
Another dream of a bazaar in Night City — somewhere in The Midlands, at least — and a momentary flirtation that, once over, stays with me for the rest of the night.
Never free of dreams.