by Dan Dillard
Chapter 15
Odd dreams started that night.
In them, Ethan and Emily were a happy couple. Their future was revealed in fits and starts as he watched one possible life unfold. It was beautiful to him. Each passage showed glimpses of moments shared between them. Ethan felt like an old man reminiscing—watching eight millimeter films from a life that he had not yet lived.
In one scene, they simply lay together in bed—sheets crumpled, sunlight streaming through dancing dust particles—and talked. He tickled her and she swatted his hand away, both giggling like children. They embraced and she settled into the crook of his arm as he rambled on and on. In his mind he was spinning a yarn about the years to come, describing the house they were going to build and raise a family in. Emily watched his hand gestures intently and looked up at him with love.
In others, massive gatherings of family and friends celebrated life. The pace seemed to slow down, and Ethan saw what he knew to be a Fourth of July party at Lake Monroe. A rented wooden gazebo held tables full of snacks and folks took turns rolling hot dogs and flipping hamburgers on a charcoal grill. The friends were unfamiliar aside from Aaron, and Kay was not there. Bustling anonymous bodies hugged and ate while their children swam in the lake. Emily was still his focus. She was crystal clear in his dream, while life swirled about. As the evening ended, punctuated by fireworks over the water, they smiled, and everyone cheered over the noise and chatted in little groups between BOOMs and POPs. The subject matter wasn’t important: the contentment and laughter was. It was a happy time.
..ooOOoo..
Ethan woke up disappointed. The dream life seemed so much more real than his actual life. Like a painting by Rockwell, everything good about life was accentuated … nothing bad was even implied. He longed for that as he went through his morning routine, and it stayed with him all day. Phone calls were an annoyance and anyone passing by his desk made the hair rise on the back of his neck. After lunch he decided to give Emily a call and check on her.
“Hello?” she said weakly.
His insides fluttered at the sound of her voice.
“Hi! Feeling better?”
“Some. What time is it? I must’ve dozed off.”
He glanced at the clock in the corner of his computer monitor and touched it with the pencil he’d been tapping. “12:30.”
“Wow, I think it was 10:00 the last time I checked,” she said.
“Think you’ll be up for dinner tonight?”
She took a second’s pause before answering, “I’m still feverish. I think I should rest one more night before I leave the house.”
“Okay, babe. Do you need me to bring you anything?” he asked.
“Just you. But I don’t want you to catch this. It’s pretty miserable.”
“Hey, get some sleep—put your feet up. I’ll check on you later.”
“Thanks,” she said, and hung up the phone.
Ethan let the handset dangle again. His mind returned to the dreams where he loved her. He thought he might be starting to love her in reality and wondered if that was just a strange but pleasant side-effect of the nightly visions he’d been having. As he lay the handset down and began tapping his pencil again, he smiled.
..ooOOoo..
That night while he slept, it was like tuning in to an old, familiar television show. He and Emily were married in the latest episode. The wedding was simple and she was a stunning bride, beaming in a white gown. The church was packed full of family and friends, all watching with tears of joy. He didn't recognize most of the faces, but he felt they were all familiar. Ethan’s mother and father sat stone-faced on the groom’s side. It didn’t alarm him, and it was a slight comfort to see them together again.
Their honeymoon was spent basking in the sun on a family beach somewhere in eastern Florida, or perhaps South Carolina. Ethan and Emily’s life got underway. They made new friends; they made plans, and they made love. There was no discomfort on display, none of the realities of real life, only the things one remembers fondly in their golden years when looking back with longing. Then he woke up. Glancing at the clock, a mere thirty minutes had passed since he had first lay down.
Ethan sat up on his elbows and looked around at his drab bedroom, wishing he had hung something on the walls. It didn’t feel like home. It felt institutional, like somewhere he’d stopped on his way to a better place.
There is no better place, his father's voice rang in his head. The sentence was a construction of his own. Something he couldn't specifically remember his father ever saying, but the message behind it was all too familiar.
The thought unnerved him. He remembered the dream and pictured his father sitting in the church with that hard expression. His own son’s marriage should have brought a smile to his face, but it hadn’t. Not even in the dream where everything else was wonderful. His dad’s misery had somehow crossed over, bringing just a taste of reality to what was otherwise perfect. Ethan shook that idea off and made a quick trip to the bathroom to relieve himself. When he got back to bed, his father had slipped from his mind for the time being, and he found sleep quickly.
He sunk back into the life he was beginning to prefer, to a house that was foreign but a place he felt comfortable, as if he’d lived there for years. His point of view followed Emily as she went about her routine, but aside from her face, the details were blurred. The dream felt like Saturday morning because neither was hurrying off to work. They drank coffee and sat on an overstuffed couch, surrounded by newspaper ads. She picked one up and pointed at something and he waved it off. Ethan saw himself smile as the game continued, a leisurely morning with the woman he knew to be his wife.
The pace quickened with the addition of a baby girl. Suddenly, Emily was portrayed in flashes: doctor visits, morning sickness, building a nursery. His dream wife carried their unborn child with that awkwardly sweet waddle, which he’d seen before but had never before paid such close, caring attention to. Contractions, water breaking, driving to the hospital, pushing … and finally, birth.
The baby was beautiful—what Ethan, as a little boy, had thought angels must look like. The doctor let him cut the cord and hold the baby before she was cleaned up. Seconds later, she was swaddled in a pink and blue blanket, a tiny cap on her head. He sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to her in his mind. At that moment, nothing else existed.
He touched the baby’s fingers and kissed the precious child on her small forehead, careful not to scratch her with his whiskers. He was overwhelmed with feelings of love for the little girl, even after waking. As long as he was asleep, they were his wife and child. She remained nameless, but he could see her, hold her in his arms, and smell the baby powder-scented lotion.
