From The Frontiers of Love, a novel

The night before, Sylvia Chen had dreamed heavily, and awakened reluctantly in the morning. Later that day, she thought, she would probably have proof again that her dreams were often reversed in time—they did not always come after the event which might have caused them but often before, as though they were forecasts of the weather ahead. “Come in,” Sylvia said a few hours after waking and, as she said it, it sounded familiar, a cue that would lead her forward into that Saturday, and illuminate what she had dreamed. Though she had not heard a sound, she knew