Author's Notes: (Written around a year/ few months ago) I love the idea that Emily Lake might have some recollection of strong Warehouse moments that could present themselves as weird feelings or in the form of dreams. Not many people write from Emily Lake's POV. So, I decided to dabble in it a little bit. I hope you enjoy this. -S.R. Wells

Disclaimer: Only in an alternate reality would I own Warehouse 13 and its characters, which means that in this reality I don't own Warehouse 13 or its character. Sadness.

Emily Hannah Lake was just a normal high school English teacher at Lincoln High. She adored her students, and they seemed to like her. She liked to eat salad and burgers. She didn't keep much contact with her parents as she would have like. She felt bad about that, but she was generally happy with her life. Still single, but she didn't mind only having Dickens as her company. Much.

"Here Dickens!" She called out to her cat who ran up to her, rubbing against her legs. Picking Dickens up, she made her way to the kitchen where she knelt down to get him a bowl of food. She opened the refrigerator and browsed her options of food. Shrugging she grabbed a Ziploc container of leftover Chinese food, putting it in the microwave. Waiting for it to get done she leaned against the counter and whistler some tune she had heard… somewhere. At any rate, it sounded old. Classical. Where have I heard classical music before? She wondered. She was shaken out of her blurry thoughts when the timer beeped at her. Grabbing her spoon and food, she made her way to the TV room.

She plopped down on the sofa and turned on the TV. She moved her steaming dinner around in its container; meanwhile, she surfed the channels, trying to find something that might interest her. Settling on some drama, she zoned out and mindlessly ate her noodles and sauce. Emily had this strange tendency to go into her mind and dream up amazing impossible things. Katherine, the choir teacher and her friend, told her to write the strange stuff down and try to make a book about it. She told Emily that she had a knack for storytelling and might be able to get published and be famous.

Emily never confessed to the strange feeling of unease that came into her stomach at the mere thought of writing her ideas down. They were personal to her, much more precious than what she had let Kathrine know. They story in her head, which paralleled in her dreams, sometimes starred herself kissing a beautiful green eyed woman. The same green eyed woman in all of her dreams. Emily was a bit embarrassed about that, and even more frightened about what might happen if someone found out about her thoughts. She lived in a conservative area and revealing that she was a lesbian, or even bi, might cause her to lose her job and her status in the small community. She'd be ostracized! She didn't want that to happen.

She couldn't help her dreams however. Every single night she would go to bed in a pair of blue pajamas with kitties on them and toss and turn for a bit. She'd turn on the lamp light and ridiculously look around to make sure there was no monsters, a habit she had developed since childhood stemming from one time when she accidently locked herself in a small closet overnight when her parents were away. She had been afraid of the dark, but the fear only increased after being in that small dark closet with no light and no one to hear her cries of fright. She had developed a phobia over it that she had slowly gotten over. Once she finished her check of the room, she would flick the light off and take deep calming breaths. In another ten to fifteen minutes she would descend into sleep and then dreams.

It started with just brief flashes of a green eyed woman with curly hair. A few months ago she dreamed about holding the beautiful woman. It brought her surprising comfort after waking up with unexplainable fear, an urge to run and keep running, for a very long time. She joked in her head that it was her guardian angel. Looking through Shakespeare one day, she dubbed her angel Ophelia. It didn't quite fit the mysterious woman, but stuck anyways. She mainly ignored her dream, yet still accepted the peace and sense of rightness. Her luck was never good, and dreams about kissing Ophelia started. The first time she woke up sweaty and horribly excited. Her excitement soon led way to shock and panic. She ran, read, and did her finances in an attempt to try to sway her mind away from the kiss. It didn't work and the dreams kept on happening. Lately her dreams had been changing slightly. She thought Ophelia might be trying to say something to her in the dreams. She either didn't remember what was spoken or Ophelia could not actually speak. Of course she couldn't actually speak! She was just a figment of Emily's imagination, after all!

Emily rubbed circles on her leg with her lips purse tightly, dinner long finished and forgotten. Dickens meowed and leapt onto her lap. She chuckled at her little man and stroked his soft fur. Dickens purred, and she relaxed, sighing. She casually glanced at the clock in the room and almost jumped up. Four hours had passed while she was in her imaginings. She turned off the TV and gave Dickens a kiss on the head; she turned off the lights in her house and went to get ready for bed. She quickly pulled on her PJs while Dickens sat at the foot of her bed licking his paw and running it over his head, his own nightly ritual. She climbed under the covers and rolled onto her side, her eyes miraculously drooping down already. Dickens jumped on the bed to sleep with his human. Cuddled up together, Emily and Dickens slept.

Emily opened her eyes in her dream world. A beautiful smile on her face, her angel sauntered over to her, giving her a tight hug and a kiss on Emily's forehead.

"Hello, Helena."