Paul had long seen events and people in his dreams. He’d come to find it almost normal, in a way. Each night came visions of the future, each morn the knowledge of what would occur. But never, never, had he had a visitor. Never had someone came to him in his sleep, never had someone spoken to him without the flaws one’s mind failed to patch up when it created the people in dreams.

No, this person was real. As real as Paul was. As real as the sands he peacefully slept upon, what was usually a quiet solace in the dangers of Arrakis’s endless seas of sand. Sleep. Yet now, someone disrupted his solace. Came to interrupt the time he spent learning of the future. Of what must be done.

Then, he remembered. He’d seen this person before. Not in real life, no. But in his dreams. The backgrounds of visions, the ever so far off distance. They were familiar. Recognizable. Why? Why were they in his dreams? And what could this person possibly want?