I thought about my dream when I ate, I thought about my dream when I wrote, I couldn’t stop thinking about it for even a minute. My father wasn’t always around, he always had business trips, or had some job to do. He was rarely home at all. As if he had something so important and explainable that he can’t even be home. Around noon, Peter visited me, but he had a far off look in his eyes giving me the sense that he was confused and possibly even scared out of his mind.  “Hey Calypso, have you ever had a dream so realistic that it felt as if a message was being sent to you, like a warning or something?” I paused and then I couldn’t believe what was going on.

“Oh my god.”

“W-what is it Calypso?”

“No.”

“What  do you mean by no?”

“Peter I-I had a dream like that last night.”

“Oh, god.”

“But there’s no way it can be the exact dream, I mean, what if we are both talking about totally different things?”

I started to explain, his expression became worried. Then he said, ” I heard the same prophecy, only instead of Apollo, the god of Fire, Hephaestus was speaking to me.” We pause. We started talking about how my dad was never home, and his dad wasn’t either. “What does this all mean?” I ask. “Either we’re demigods, or we’re completely insane.” I thought for a minute. “Peter, dreams are never that realistic, they never send messages like that. Most people don’t even remember dreams, but this is the only thing I’ve been thinking about.”  Right after I ended my sentence, a large beam of light started to creep rapidly around the room, like lava spreading around callused rock.

The room suddenly started to change. The monitors turned into tapestries, and the floor turned from tile, to hard polished marble. The room started to expand. The small hospital room was suddenly a gargantuan throne room. In front of us, we saw two thrones, one was of pure gold and extremely well polished with a sun disk made of arrows hanging on top. Then there was a throne constructed with every precious metal found. Everything had happened so fast, first we were talking in the hospital room, then we were in a huge throne room knowing nothing whatsoever of where we are and how we got here. But something about that symbol above the first throne was familiar. Then it hit me. My mark.

When I was born I was born with a mark exactly like the one hanging above the throne. I kept asking my mother “How is it so detailed mom? It can’t be possible!” She always denied my observations and just told me to ignore it and that it was probably just an act of nature. But to me, that mark, that symbol didn’t even look like I was even born with it. It looked like it was burned into my skin. Peter seemed to have a similar situation, but he had a hammer, that was crossed over with pincers.

“Hello Calypso.” A booming voice, that sounded like it was coming from everywhere. “I am Apollo. The god of the sun, healing, and music. I am also your father.” A tall man stepped out from the shadows, wearing traditional Greek men attire. Just like in my dream. Peter looked at me with wide eyes, that’s when I passed out.