That night, Reine had a familiar dream that had haunted her for centuries.

She was in a church, awakened to the heavy smell of incense and candle wax. A colorful fresco of the Virgin and Child surrounded by cherubs looked down at her from overhead. Although disoriented, she found temporary comfort in their presence.

Two men were quietly conversing nearby. Something about fisherman finding a body and preparations for transport to Florence. Moments later, fading footsteps and the creak of a heavy door signaled she'd been left alone.

As her mind gradually cleared of its haze, she saw that not only was she lying on a makeshift catafalque perpendicular to the nearby altar, but her interwoven fingers were also resting under her bosom. In fact, someone had even thoughtfully placed a small pillow under her neck. Shocked at this realization she swiftly sat up, but the sudden motion brought on a severe coughing fit.

Her lungs felt heavy, and she struggled for breath. When the coughing finally stopped, she swung her legs over the side of the cloth covered structure. An intense pain ran through her entire body as her bare feet reached the cold, damp floor. Now a sudden swell of extreme nausea caused her to gag uncontrollably, but it was to no avail.

Her head spun, her muscles ached, and her sopping wet dress weighed down her lithe frame. It also chilled her to the bone. Without thinking, she removed the green brocade skirt and its matching vest, keeping just the thin underskirt and bodice. Turning on her heels toward the nearest door, she exited the small church in pursuit of the people who hopefully could give her the answers she sought.

She stepped into the fading light of the rapidly setting sun illuminating the large body of water in front of her. There was no one else on the street in either direction. A slight breeze blew through the long, wet strands of her disheveled, strawberry blonde hair, amplifying the wintry conditions of the bleak evening.

Reine shivered and regretted shedding her outer garb. Trusting her luck, she turned north. With the lagoon on her right, she ran down the waterfront street in the still unfamiliar town.

The frozen dirt and gravel beneath her bare feet stung the delicate flesh. As she passed house after house in the increasing darkness without as much as seeing another living soul, her spirit became more and more diminished. Standing in front of the last house before the town gate, she knew she'd chosen the wrong way to go. The men from the church must have travelled in the opposite direction.

Her breathing was still ragged from the frantic pace of the search, which had also reawakened her previous nausea. This time, she wasn't able to suppress the warm stream of salty water that ended up at the base of a worn, stone wall. While the act itself was unpleasant, it made her feel better. The momentary pause also gave her the chance to examine her surroundings.

Night was coming fast now, exacerbated by numerous gray clouds directly overhead. Inside an open courtyard, a modest, light blue frock was flapping on a clothesline in the breeze. While it was certainly not as rich as the garments Reine left behind, it would help protect her from the cold that was still biting at her fair skin.

Hoping to remain unseen, she ran through the gate and slipped the gown over her head. As she turned to make a hasty retreat, a clattering of dishes drew her attention to the window of the adjacent house.

A young woman, much like herself, was busy preparing the evening meal. The clothing Reine just stole probably belonged to her. Although it was plain and made of cotton, it was most likely the girl's Sunday best. A pang of guilt washed over Reine. Foolishly abandoning her own clothes led her into this predicament; however, she couldn't continue her journey in just her undergarments.

Acting again without forethought, she unclasped the last remnant of her lavish attire hanging around her neck. The double strand of luminous pearls held a perfectly round, polished red stone of jasper with an enormous teardrop pearl dangling below. She popped open the golden locket tucked away behind the stone façade.

It contained a miniature portrait of a young man. His dark, wavy locks framed a handsome face with a strong jaw line and serious, yet gentle eyes.

No matter how hard she tried, Reine couldn't remember whose face she was looking at, but somehow she knew these types of keepsakes were given as engagement presents. Could this be her betrothed? Was his one of the voices she heard inside the church? Irrespective, she had no use for the precious jewel now.

Fastening it to the line where the blue dress hung just moments earlier, she watched the ornate locket swing gently in the wind. It was more than a fair trade, and clothing was more valuable to her right now.

That's when something clicked inside her head. Suddenly, the overheard conversation from earlier began to fall into place.

. . . found by fishermen . . . utmost respect . . . preparations for travel.

They were talking about her. That's why her gown had been wet and why she had just vomited sea water. She must have fallen into the lagoon, and they mistakenly thought she'd drowned. That explained the setup in the church and the man arriving to claim something.

A body. Her body.

How could anyone make such an absurd mistake? She was obviously alive! And she had to find those men immediately to tell them so.

Stepping back into the empty street, a new thought stopped her in her tracks. Multiple people believed she had died. Either they had been beguiled to believe a lie, or she was under some type of black magic. It was common knowledge the innocent drown, while only a witch can escape unharmed. And if she indeed was a witch, then publicizing her survival would lead to an immediate sentence of burning at the stake. As much as it pained her to admit it, she couldn't turn to anyone who may have knowledge of her death to provide her with answers.

She sank by the courtyard wall in a heap of desperation. The wind was stronger now, and it blew a light rain against her face, mixing the cold droplets with a stream of warm tears.

Time had lost its meaning, but she couldn't stay where she was. Left with no alternative, Reine took one last look at the distant, tell-tale silhouette of the buildings she finally recognized as Venice. As the street slowly turned to mud, and in spite of the pain which it still caused her, she ran away from the town as fast as her feet would carry her.

She woke with a start from the familiar dream. Probably triggered by her recent musing about Gabe's car accident, these weren't just simple figments of her imagination. They were her first memories after dying and coming back to life.