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Somewhere, off in the distance, a bird was singing.
Albert Rosenfield wasn't sure how he knew this, as he trudged through the sea of yellow sand that stretched out for miles around him. He hadn't seen or heard a bird here at any previous point in time. He hadn't seen a sign of any other living thing. He couldn't even see any places a bird could conceivably live, as there was nothing here but endless expanses of desert, punctuated by jagged grey towers that jutted out at odd angles from the ground. What appeared to be a mountain range rose off in the distance, nearly invisible behind the dim haze that hung along the edge of the horizon. (Were they really mountains, wondered Albert, or just more towers?)
The sun beat down mercilessly through the cloudless, slate-grey sky. Albert had begun sweating through his black suit as he made his way through the wasteland. A faint breeze sent his tie flapping gently against the lapels of his jacket. He loosened his necktie, undid the button on his collar, and continued walking.
He had absolutely no idea where he was, or how he had got here.
He didn't know how long he had been here either. His initial idea had been to head for the nearest one of those strange towers, if only to get into the shade and rest, but none of them seemed to be getting any closer the further he walked. He considered that the heat might be affecting his perception of time and space.
Either that, or he was dreaming.
"Albert," called a strangely familiar voice.
At the sound of his name, he stopped walking and looked around. It sounded like it came from somewhere above him, but the sky seemed as empty as before. And the voice sounded almost like...no, but it couldn't be him.
"Albert," repeated the voice. "Can you hear me?"
"I can hear you," he replied, his own voice reduced to a near-croak from dehydration. His eyes still searched the skies, the sands, the distant towers, desperate for any clue as to what was going on.
"I can hear you too."
"Where are you?"
He heard no response.
"Who are you?"
Still nothing. But his curiosity was starting to get the better of him--there was one question above all others that he was now dying to know the answer to.
"You sound like someone I haven't got to talk to in a long time. You sound like Dale Coo-"
He found himself cut off mid-sentence as a stronger gust of wind kicked up a miniature sandstorm. He ducked behind his crossed arms to shield his face, crouching in place to brace himself against the wind. He felt himself slowly sinking into the sand. He tried to lift his feet, and made an attempt to jump, but found himself already stuck in place, weighed down as if something much heavier was pressing down from above.
"Cooper," he cried, pulling his jacket in front of his face to keep out the sand and waving his other hand wildly. "Coop, is that you?"
"It is. I'm so glad I was finally able to contact you."
"What the hell is going on?!"
"Albert, I made a mistake. I need your help."
"You need my help? I should be asking you that, I'm in a pit of goddamn quicksand."
He tried to kick out his legs, and felt even more stuck than before. The sand had to be up to at least his waist by now.
"Open your eyes."
"What, and get sand in them? I'm already getting some in my mouth."
"I'll tell you more later, but for now, you have to open your eyes."
The noise of the swirling winds began to die down. Albert kept holding his jacket in front of his face, but cautiously opened one eye, then the other. He lowered his jacket and took a look at his surroundings. The stretch of sand directly in front of him had been blown away, forming a pair of large hills to either side. A lengthy colonnade, dotted with statues, now stretched out for miles before him.
When he tried to walk forward, he found he still couldn't move; his hand brushed his leg and found it cold to the touch. He glanced downward--everything below his torso that had been submerged in the sand had now turned to stone.
"Cooper! What the hell is happening?!"
"Open your eyes."
"They are open!"
He looked around frantically. Everything else looked the same as before.
"There's a path ahead of me, but I can't move. You're gonna have to tell me what's going on."
He waited for an answer.
"Cooper?"
Somewhere up above him, he heard birdsong. He looked up, and saw wings silhouetted against the sun.
He shut his eyes instinctively against the glare.
When he opened them again, he saw only the glow of his alarm clock on the nightstand, its red digits reading 2:53.
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"GEE ALBERT, YOU LOOK TERRIBLE!"
Albert looked up from his coffee at the FBI staff lunchroom the next morning and found a very concerned-looking Gordon Cole standing above him.
"I had a rough night last night," Albert replied, rubbing his eyes reflexively. "Fell asleep late, woke up early, couldn't get back to sleep. You know how that is."
"I SURE DO."
Albert resumed staring into his coffee, but he noticed Gordon wasn't moving.
"I had a very unsettling dream," he offered, by way of explanation.
"DID YOU EAT ANY CHEESE LAST NIGHT?"
"What?"
"THEY SAY EATING CHEESE BEFORE YOU FALL ASLEEP CAN CAUSE BAD DREAMS. IT SOUNDS CRAZY, BUT IT'S TRUE. IT HAPPENED TO ME ONCE! I HAD GONE TO A PARTY ON NEW YEAR'S EVE AND HAD EATEN SOME GORGONZOLA. I GOT HOME, WENT TO BED, AND THOUGHT I WAS OKAY, BUT I WOKE UP IN A COLD SWEAT AT FOUR A.M. THAT NIGHT. DREAMT THAT I WAS TRAPPED INSIDE THE MIDDLE OF AN ENORMOUS PIECE OF TORTELLINI, AND I HAD TO CHEW MY WAY OUT OF IT."
Albert mulled over a couple sarcastic retorts in his head, but found he was too exhausted even for that, and let Gordon's story pass without comment.
"I didn't eat any cheese. I can't remember eating much of anything. But I don't think it was that sort of dream. I dreamt about-"
"WHAT DID YOU DREAM ABOUT," bellowed Gordon before Albert could finish his sentence.
"...If you'll let me finish?"
"SORRY."
"I...I dreamt about...It's hard to explain, but it was about Agent Cooper. But it wasn't about him, exactly. I didn't see him, but I heard him. Even before I heard him, I knew it was him. It was more like receiving a message than watching a movie. That's crazy, right? Coop's the one who always got visions and all that mystical mumbo jumbo. I drew the short straw as far as dreams are concerned. The only excitement I ever get is the occasional fantasy, or some mundane nightmare about showing up to a college lecture naked. Boring shit like that."
"DON'T KNOCK THE MUMBO JUMBO. JUST BECAUSE IT HASN'T HAPPENED TO YOU YET DOESN'T MEAN IT CAN'T START HAPPENING NOW."
"What's this I hear about mumbo jumbo," asked Tammy Preston as she strode over to the table to join the two men.
"ALBERT WAS CONTACTED BY AGENT COOPER IN A DREAM."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," cautioned Albert. "I had a couple strange dreams earlier in the week, but at this point in time, I can't say whether they're related. It happened once. It might not happen again."
"If it does happen again," said Tammy, "you need to tell us. Take notes. Write down everything that happens, everything that anyone says."
"I don't even remember half of it myself."
"ALL THE MORE REASON TO WRITE IT DOWN RIGHT WHEN IT HAPPENS. WHEN YOU GET HOME FROM WORK TONIGHT, GO PUT A NOTEBOOK AND A PEN OR PENCIL NEXT TO YOUR BED. WRITE DOWN EVERYTHING YOU CAN REMEMBER THE SECOND YOU WAKE UP. SEE IF ANY OF IT MAKES ANY SENSE, OR POINTS TOWARDS COOPER'S WHEREABOUTS."
"Or you could get a tape recorder or video recorder set up," suggested Tammy. "If it ever reaches a point where the dreams become indistinguishable from reality, it could prove an invaluable asset."
"I can't say I'm in any rush to have the FBI filming me while I sleep. The notebook though, I could easily do. Just in case."
"YES. JUST IN CASE."
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Albert had no idea how he got home from work that night. He knew he had driven home, of course, but he had no memory of it. The monotony of the daily commute had been amplified five hundredfold by his exhaustion, and he'd spent the entire time struggling to keep his eyes open, much less on the road. Experience had taught him that three cups of coffee was a poor substitute for eight hours' rest; given that he usually only managed six hours of sleep per night at the best of times, a lifetime's worth of sleep debt seemed to come crashing down on him the second he unlocked the door to his flat. He sloughed off his coat onto a nearby chair, and disrobed en route to the bedroom, leaving his tie, shirt, and pants strewn on the floor. Even changing into pajamas seemed too much effort for too little reward. He half-collapsed onto the bed, on top of the covers.
Sleep. My God, how he needed sleep.
He saw a couple dim flashes of light through the closed window blinds, followed by a low rumble. At least he had beat the impending thunderstorm home.
Raindrops began to plink gently against the windowpanes. Albert rolled onto his back and found himself staring at the ceiling, more awake than before. The cracks were deeper than he remembered them being earlier in the month. The clock on the nightstand read 9:00, then 9:30. He wondered whether there was something he was forgetting.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath, "I forgot the notebook!"
He pulled himself out of bed with a weary sigh, navigating the dark apartment by memory rather than sight or touch. Bedroom, living room, coffee table, bookshelf, cabinet...yes, the cabinet. He pulled out the top drawer and fished out a pocket-sized notepad from atop a pile of other notebooks, and made his way back to the bookshelf to pull a pencil from a small glass jar full of them that he kept on one of the middle shelves. Now he had one less thing to worry about...not that it would help him sleep better.
He set the pad and paper on the nightstand in front of the clock, got back into bed, and shut his eyes.
Another flash of light was visible through his closed eyelids, accompanied by a dull zzap-ing sound. Albert groaned. Even nature was conspiring to keep him awake...
"Albert," whispered a familiar voice. "Albert, wake up."
...unless this wasn't nature after all.
Albert opened his eyes, and sat up, cautiously. At the foot of the bed stood Dale Cooper, seemingly normal, but hovering a foot or so off the ground. He was still clad in his black suit and tie, and looked much the same as he had when he had reappeared in Twin Peaks. Aside from a few wrinkles and a subtle broadening, he honestly didn't look that different from how he had looked 25 years ago. (Although Albert was not a vain man, he envied Cooper for this more than he cared to admit.)
If Albert had been more awake, he might've been startled enough to shout, or perhaps fall out of bed. Instead, he remained sitting, waiting, watching, and regarding Cooper with detachment, if not disbelief.
"This is a dream, isn't it?"
Cooper cocked his head to the side, seemingly astonished Albert would even ask such a question.
"This isn't a dream, Albert."
"It feels like a dream to me, because I can't imagine you showing up so nonchalantly in this way. In my bedroom. In midair."
"I don't have to levitate if it makes you uncomfortable."
"It's not the floating, Coop, it's that you decide to show up here, now, after everything that's happened."
Cooper looked concerned, and slowly descended to the floor.
"What do you mean?"
"Coop, don't play dumb with me. How and why are you here, where did you go before, and what the hell did you do back in Twin Peaks?"
"I can tell you that later, but I need your help first."
"Help? With what?"
"I made a mistake. It had unforeseen consequences. I tried to save Laura Palmer. I thought I had succeeded, but I only created another problem."
Albert furrowed his brows.
"What do you mean when you say you saved Laura Palmer?"
"I saved her life. She had been killed. I prevented her death from happening."
"You...wait. What?"
"She was killed, but I undid it."
"I don't understand. When you say undid..."
He racked his brains, trying to remember the details of the Laura Palmer case as best he could, but found his memories slipping away from him.
"I thought she just went missing in the first place," he continued, hesitantly. "She didn't die."
"But she did, die, Albert. You were in Twin Peaks soon after I was. You performed the autopsy."
"...I think I would remember something like that."
Cooper smiled and shook his head.
"Time is a funny thing. You would remember it if it had happened, and it did happen, at one point. But now it hasn't, and things are changing. It's hard for me to comment on how all these changes have happened, as I seem to have become unstuck in time a bit myself."
"You run into Billy Pilgrim somewhere along the way?"
"I'm serious, Albert. I am only now beginning to understand the extent of what has been transformed across universes. But, you still think of me as Dale Cooper, so that's something to work with, I suppose."
Albert stared back blankly for a couple seconds, before stretching rolling up his sleeve and extending his left arm out towards where Cooper stood.
"Pinch me," he said.
"What?"
"Pinch me. I need to know if I'm still dreaming."
Cooper viewed the outstretched arm with apprehension, but didn't make a move. Albert wondered whether Cooper could actually touch him or not--he wasn't sure of the internal logic of these dream worlds--and instead gave himself a pinch on the arm with the opposite hand, flinching slightly from the unexpected pain.
"You are dreaming," said Cooper, "and yet, at the same time, you aren't".
Albert stared back and forth from his arm to Cooper's face.
"So this is basically like Schrodinger's cat, but with nightmares?"
"Albert, it doesn't matter right now if you understand what's going on. There will be time for explanations later. What matters is that you agree to help me with my current situation, because there are some things I cannot do from where I am now."
At this, Albert became indignant.
"No, Coop, actually I do think it matters if I understand what's going on. So some prom queen in a podunk town went missing instead of winding up dead. Either way, you wound up disappearing for 25 years, leaving the FBI and Gordon and Diane and myself and everyone else in the dark. Then we think we've finally found you, another you shows up, the real you shows up for about 25 minutes...and then what? You disappear again? And then start haunting my sleep telling me to come rescue you from whatever shit you've managed to get yourself in this time?"
"It's not quite like that."
"Maybe it isn't, but I think I've got enough of the gist of it. If I go looking for you and wind up disappearing as well, where does that leave the rest of the Blue Rose team? You disappeared and had the tremendous good fortune to come back, only to go running off again to screw something else up somewhere else, from the sound of things. Had to go save some damsel in distress again."
"It wasn't just about that. There are larger forces at play."
"Then you could've asked someone else for advice before you did something reckless on your own! How long can a lucky streak last? Maybe if I went after you, I wouldn't be that lucky either. Maybe if we dig too deeply into aspects of this, we'll all wind up like Jeffries eventually...wherever the hell he is now."
"At this point, stopping Judy may be more important than the status of a few agents."
"Judy! For as much as that name keeps coming up, we still don't know any more information than we did before about what it is or how to stop it. Any time anyone gets too close to any answers, he dies or disappears or winds up getting stuck somewhere else outside of space and time."
"Albert."
"We have a limited number of people, Coop, and a finite amount of resources-"
"Albert."
"-and I want to help you and I want to, god help me, 'save the world' or whatever it is you hope to accomplish along the way, but I just...I just..."
He caught a glimpse of Cooper's eyes, and saw the genuine hurt in them. He looked away, unable to meet his gaze longer than a second.
"Goddamnit Coop, everything in me is warning me against whatever this is that lies ahead. I was worried sick about you for years, assumed you were dead, and made myself get over it. I wasn't expecting to ever see you again, and now I don't know what to expect about anything else either."
Cooper walked to the side of the bed and crouched, tentatively laying his hand atop Albert's.
"Do you trust me?"
Albert continued looking away.
"I...wish I could."
Cooper let go of Albert's hand and stood up, accepting a certain level of defeat.
"I don't want to force you into a decision if you have any doubts tonight. I'll come back tomorrow night and ask you then."
"I wish you wouldn't," said Albert halfheartedly as he turned to face his friend. He watched in shock as the outline of Cooper began fading away--his body had slowly started to disappear, from his feet up to his head.
"I can't make you trust me," Cooper replied, seemingly unbothered by the rate at which his feet were dissolving, "but I want you to know that I would trust you with my life any day of the week. I wouldn't be here if I didn't. That's why I came to you in the only way I can right now. Not anyone from the FBI. Not anyone from Twin Peaks. Not anyone else. I'll talk to you again tomorrow night, but after that, your participation is solely up to you. I hope you make the right choice."
He had halfway disappeared at this point, and his torso was fading fast, but Cooper managed a final, sweet smile in Albert's direction as his face grew translucent. A few moments later, he had finally, fully vanished.