II.       It was 9:45. She knew she had failed her open-book Philosophy exam, and now Dara stood outside classroom 2408 waiting for Ron, who was taking his final in International Business Relations. A darkly entrepreneurial sort who dabbled in the stock market but dealt in drugs and pornography, Ron had been Dara's boyfriend for two years. He had promised her that, once he got "free and clear," he would marry her in one of the quaint chapels on the Strip and then whisk her away to New Zealand, where they would live out their lives together.
       Leaning against the pale green college hallway, Dara focused on the dream, watched it play in her mind, felt herself sitting in the canoe and moving over dark and murky waters. Obsessed with these images, she had not studied the night before, hadn't had sex in a week, and had forgotten her friends. Struggling with image of the drowned woman, she thought: Jesus God Almighty, what am I going to do about these dreams? To whom can I turn?
       Almost magically, she saw in her mind's eye the one person who would likely have an answer. Instantly, she recognized him:Preacher Ray, the aging and blind black pastor of the Church of Living Waters on Bruce Street. Two months after moving to Vegas, Dara had complained of severe stomach pains, which the doctor attributed to stress over leaving her father. ("You missin' that old bastard?" her intoxicated mother had yelled the night after the doctor's visit as the two sat in front of the TV watching Unsolved Mysteries."Yes, I guess I do, " Dara had said. )
       Reluctantly, her mother had gone with her to a full-gospel church where Dara had meta genuinely good man in Preacher Ray, and as he had greeted her and her mother after service and placed his big, callused hand on her shoulder, Dara felt for the first time in her life as if she had touched God.
       As she now stood in the hallway, Dara fondly remembered meeting in the tiny church: the congregation consisted of people of all colors and classes, singing hearts out, hands raised in worship. Christmas service had been wonderful and brought to mind a painting she had once done of a choir of angels.
       Dreaming of Christmas service, she heard a still small voice telling her to see Pastor Ray.
       "So what do I do about Ron?" she asked aloud, as if carrying on an animated dialogue with someone actually present. Suddenly she realized that other students were walking down the hall, several looking at her as if she was crazy. She recognized one heavyset woman from anthropology class, whose final was scheduled for tomorrow, and Dara shrugged, laughed, and said to her, "Hearing voices again."
       As the large woman nervously smiled and continued walking, Dara decided it was time to find Pastor Ray before noon. For an instant, she thought of going into the classroom and telling Ron that she had to leave, but the urgent call prompted her to walk down the hall, take the stairs to the first floor, exit the building through the large glass door, and head for her car.