Somewhere in Egypt, in a temple, she stood opposite her fantasy man, on a dais at the top of steps that gleamed white. Her bridegroom was a warrior of high rank and clad accordingly, a short white wrap-around skirt bordered in gold and a wide leather sash fitted diagonally across his bare chest. A copper knife at his waist and a sheathed wood javelin, with a copper spearhead was fastened with leather thongs to his muscled arm and shoulder.She was a princess, her wedding robes woven from fibers so fine, it was nearly transparent.She was overjoyed and aesthetic to be joined to her warrior, more in love with him than any human being in her life. It was easy to love him, for his love for her was as strong and perhaps stronger.The Pharaoh sat on his throne, overseeing and blessing their union. A High Priest stood in front of her and her bridegroom. The High Priest held a corded flaxen rope woven with filigreed gold. As she and her warrior exchanged vows, he wrapped the cord around their joined hands and their wrists. The memory of the words he spoke was not as clear as those her bridegroom added. His voice was steady, strong and very clear. "I am yours to protect you, to love you, to guide you, in this life and all lives to come, for all eternity. This I swear before all the Gods we worship, including the Greatest of them all."Without reservation, she replied, "And I am yours to share my love, my loyalty and all my being, in this life and all others to come, for all eternity. This I swear before all the Gods we worship, including the Greatest of them all."She heard the High Priest's startled intake of breath. Her bridegroom also heard it. They glanced at the High Priest, and read a wary expression in his eyes. But he said nothing, only turned to gaze up at the Pharaoh, and observed his smile and a nod. A father's approving smile and nod, content to see his favorite daughter and his most loyal warrior, son of royalty as well, joined in marriage. The High Priest turned back to the couple. His words issued with an unyielding prophetic finality. "So have you both sworn. So is it ordained."A sudden shiver rose up her spine, not of fear, but of momentousness. She gazed into her bridegroom's eyes, and found the reassurance she sought, in the love and utter surrender she read in their expression, and breathed a sigh of relief. A salving mist rose about them as the dream faded. ... "Shhh," Estelle put a finger to her lips. Angie advised, "There's no one about in the hallway to hear me. It's too early for the other servants to be about. Your parents are still asleep, their drapes drawn tight.""What gave me away," Estelle asked."What gives you away, each time," Angie replied."The smile?"Angie nodded. "Where were you this time?" she asked."Not sure, but it was lovely. A rose garden on a terrace, overlooking the Mediterranean.""Were you alone?'"He'd just started down the stone stairwell, toward the carriage on the grounds below, with a promise to be waiting for me tomorrow morning at the foot of the altar for our wedding.""The same man?" Angie said."Yes, though the settings may differ, the century, his clothes, the color of his hair, his name, his features. But I recognize him. It's the same man.""Dear, it's a dream, He's not real. A leftover fantasy from your childhood.""He's real," Estelle insisted. "To me," she whispered. "As real as the young bridegroom in the family portraits that hang along our stairwell, returning each century to find his beloved, remarry her and spend his life with her.""Please tell me," Angie pleaded, "you haven't yet outgrown the fantasy that you are her reincarnation?"Estelle didn't answer. What good would it do to argue? Angie still thought of her as an impressionable child who although she'd outgrown her belief in fairy tales some time ago, had merely exchanged that phase for a belief in the paranormal.