by Sahara Kelly
Actually, a little before then, since the shuttle from Reagan National had been delayed on the tarmac as always—probably due to somebody coughing in Outer Mongolia—and Ned had dozed off in his first class seat before the flight attendant had even had a chance to offer him the beverage of his choice.
So his forty-five-minute flight had been more like an hour and a half, during which he’d lapsed into a sleep that was far from refreshing. Blurred visions danced through his airborne brain, visions of battles and warriors and heads bare but for a center tuft that stood erect like the crest of a cockatiel.
He shuddered awake as the final approach chimes sounded, lifting a hand to his head to make sure nobody had given him an unauthorized haircut on the flight.
Even though his hair was intact, his heart wasn’t. That night he dreamed again, this time of Gandewitha and her sleekly supple body. She seemed desperate for him, a need tinged with a fear he could not name.
The sex was passionate and hot, driving a sleeping Ned into a state of painful hardness and waking him with what he now came to expect as his post-nightmare stiffy.
Angry that he was still having these experiences, Ned tried the glass-of-milk-before-bed thing. Followed by the healthy-shot-of-scotch-before-bed thing. Neither worked.
On the night he took Gandewitha up the ass in the rain, surprising himself with the incredibly pleasurable sensations—since he wasn’t into that sort of activity—he realized the dreams weren’t going to go away, no matter what he dosed himself with before he went to bed.
In fact, they were getting worse. Or stronger. Or more intense. Or whatever…
Their effects were noticed.
“You look like shit.” Irene Louis raised an eyebrow at him over the top of her reading glasses.
“Thanks, Irene. I needed that.” He shuffled through his messages and his mail in front of her desk.
Irene was a retired librarian who enjoyed being the receptionist-voicemail-staff assistant-meddle in everybody’s business person in a small office. She ran the place with an iron fist, tolerated fools poorly and baked the best chocolate chip cookies this side of heaven. She was an invaluable asset, which was why Ned couldn’t bring himself to brush her comment aside.
“What’s the matter, sweetie? Woman trouble?” Irene got that look on her face that said he wasn’t going to get away without unburdening his soul to her.
He sighed and sat in the chair in front of her desk. Many a visitor had likened it to the corporate equivalent of a psychiatrist’s couch—Irene was that good at getting people to spill their guts.
“I’m not sleeping well.” Ned rubbed his hands over his face.
“No kidding. The large carry-on bags under your eyes give that away.” Irene continued to look at him. “What’s on your mind, pal?”
“Dreams.” He mumbled the word, fearing he’d sound like an even greater idiot than he probably was for having the damn things in the first place.
“Bad dreams? Good dreams? Standing-naked-on-top-of-the-Prudential-Center dreams?”
“They’re…” Christ. How did he describe them without going into lurid detail? Which would probably enchant Irene, but embarrass the crap out of Ned. “They’re very intense dreams about a time long ago. And yeah, before you ask, there’s a woman in ‘em.”
“Aha.” Irene grinned. “Now you’re talking.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. I’m not telling you the details.”
“Spoilsport.” She pushed her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose. “They’re enough to wreck your nights, though, right?”
“You have no idea.” Ned sighed. “I started having them in DC, figured I’d got rid of them, but they came back.”
“What time?”
“About ten am on the flight back.”
“No, idiot. What time period are you dreaming about?” Irene wrinkled her nose.
“Uhh…” Ned thought for a moment. “It’s all Native American stuff. Forests, lakes, mountains—I’m told it’s the Seneca tribe.”
“Told? By whom?” Irene pounced on that like a cat on a half-drunk and oblivious mouse.
Ned surrendered. Within moments the whole story had sort of come out of his mouth, minus the more intimate parts.
“You’re leaving a lot out.” Irene looked at him accusingly.
“Bet your booties I am. I don’t get my cookies off shocking nice old ladies.”
“Who you callin’ old, asshole?”
“Jesus, Irene.” Ned couldn’t help the laugh. “Quit with the potty-mouth, will ya? You’re shocking me.”
“Yeah, right.” She snorted. “Okay. So you met the woman of your dreams in the flesh, so to speak, in DC. You two did the deed and figured you’d both got it out of your system, right?”
Ned nodded. “Yeah. That about sums it up.”
“But you haven’t. Didn’t. Whatever.” She waved her hand, summarily dismissing any thought of being grammatically correct at this point.
“Seems not.” Ned rested his chin on his hand and stared at nothing in particular.
“Read this.”
Irene passed a book across her desk with a snap and Ned glanced at the cover. Dreams and Dream Wanderers. The author was somebody named Corvo. He read the blurb beneath.
Do you dream? Are your dreams troubling, or disturbing in any way? Do you dream in colors? Remember sounds or tastes or smells? Are you having trouble sleeping? If you answered yes to any of these questions, perhaps we can help answer some of your concerns.
He pushed it back. “Can’t stand that new-age crap.”
“Hey. Don’t sass me. This is one helluva book. Dr. Corvo and his wife have done some incredibly fine research on dreams. He’s got a nice writing style and mentions some things that come close to what you’ve told me. What can it hurt?” She tipped her head, daring him to turn her down.
She was right. What could it hurt? “Okay. I’ll give it a try. But if it tells me to contemplate my navel, drink herbal tea or chant beneath a full moon, you are so going to hear about it.” He fixed her with his most threatening glare. “You will owe me cookies. A double batch.” He paused. “With nuts.”
Irene looked smug. “Philistine. Just read the frickin’ thing. You’ll be surprised.”
After the dreams Ned had experienced, he had to wonder about that statement. “I don’t know there’s much left that can surprise me, honey.”
But he took the book, anyway.
He started it that very lunchtime on a bench in Harvard Square, hoping to drive back the lingering visions of Gandewitha.
He finished it late in the afternoon when an appointment cancelled on him, leaving him a couple of hours free.
And when he got home to find Gaia’s email waiting for him, he knew it was a sign. The two of them simply had to go see this Dr. Jake Corvo. If anybody could straighten out this tangle of messed up memories, it was him.
Now all he needed was an appointment.
And Gaia.
Chapter Nine
Gaia saw Ned the minute she walked through the arrival doors into Logan airport itself. Her flight was forty minutes late, of course—somebody’s camel had given birth in the Middle East and disrupted the entire Northeast corridor air traffic control system—but his smile of welcome made all her frustrations vanish in a poof of happiness.
“It’s so good to see you.” His hug enveloped her and washed away any doubts she’d had about this trip. “I’m glad you could make it.”
She leaned back in his arms, looking at him. “Me too.”
He released her then, memories of their parting obviously descending on him just as they did on her. “I’m sorry, Gaia.”
“I’m sorry…”
They laughed awkwardly, caught with the same sentiment on their lips at the same moment. Ned took her bag. “Come on. We have an appointment with a guy in town. I think he might be able to answer some of our questions about the dreams.” Ned glanced at her as they walked out the doors to the parking garage. “
Are you up for this?”
She nodded, pulling her jacket tightly around her against the sharp winds of Boston in the late fall. “Yes. Most definitely yes. The dreams are worse than ever, stronger than ever. You?”
“Yeah. I haven’t slept good since…well, since the night we…” He stumbled over his words, masking his embarrassment by fiddling with the locks on his car. “I’m tired, irritable and going quietly nuts. At this point, I’m ready to try anything.”
“So let’s do it.” Gaia looked around her as they drove away. “Haven’t been up here in ages. Things have changed a lot.”
The conversation turned general, Ned pointing out some of the new projects in Boston, breezing through the tunnel with his electronic toll unit, and finally finding a convenient parking space near the hotel where he told her they were meeting their dream counselor.
“This sounds a bit far-fetched, Ned, I have to admit. Especially for someone as practical as you.” Gaia stood beside the car, ignoring the bustle of traffic around her.
Ned said nothing for a few moments, making Gaia realize that what she’d said could sound like an insult. Or possibly something mildly offensive, given their last words to each other in Washington. “Look, don’t take that the wrong way, okay?”
He chuckled. “I’m not. You’re right. I am practical. Can’t help it. But right now, I’m stuck in an improbable situation with no ready answers in sight. I’m desperate, Gaia.” He gazed at her across the car. “Truly desperate. That’s how strong the dreams are now.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“So let’s go see if we can do something about them.” Ned led her into the hotel and, after checking with the front desk, she found herself in the elevator heading for the suite assigned to Dr. Jake Corvo.
“It’s a wonderful book, Gaia. You’d love it. The guy has a great turn of phrase, puts stuff simply and mostly non-technically and makes a lot of sense. When I talked to him, he sounded really normal, you know?”
“You’re chattering.” Gaia grinned as the floors ticked away.
“I’m nervous.” Ned shrugged. “Stupid, but there it is.”
Obeying an impulse, Gaia slipped her hand into Ned’s. “Not stupid at all. Kinda cute.”
He looked at her, his eyes all heat and passion. “Be careful.” His fingers squeezed hers. “You’re not out of my system. I don’t know if you ever will be. I’m keeping a tight rein on a whole bunch of stuff here, but if you go poking at it, I won’t be responsible for what pops out.”
A quick rejoinder sprang immediately to Gaia’s lips, but the doors slid apart and she had to bite down on the comment about things that popped out.
Damn. It was funny too.
Jake Corvo welcomed them with a warm smile and a handshake. He wore jeans and a dark sweater and looked, as Ned had said, quite normal.
“C’mon in. Sorry about the routine hotel stuff, but there wasn’t another option, I’m afraid.” He waved at the obligatory overstuffed—and probably uncomfortable—couch. “Coffee?”
There was a pot on a tray, along with several cups and saucers. Thankfully from room service, not the idiotic little creosote maker provided for the early morning convenience of unwary guests.
“That would be great, thanks.” Gaia sighed with pleasure as the rich brew warmed her body. “It’s cold up here.”
Ned sat down next to her, refusing the coffee. “Thanks for seeing us on such short notice, Dr. Corvo.”
“Call me Jake.”
His eyes were oddly dark and penetrating, realized Gaia. He was sizing them up even as they exchanged social pleasantries. She felt herself mesmerized for a minute or two as his gaze lingered on her face. “So tell me, Gaia. Tell me about your dreams. I’ve already had a brief run-down from Ned on the phone, but he couldn’t fill in some of the blanks. That needs to come from you.”
Within moments, she was laying her soul bare. Damn, this man was good. She spilled her guts, telling Jake about the earliest dreams she could remember, how they’d changed and what was happening in them now. With just a few simple questions, Jake had pulled almost her entire life out from the recesses of her mind.
“You were to marry another warrior?” Ned looked stunned as she reached the end of her recital.
“Apparently so.” Gaia shivered a little. “That’s what Gandewitha said in my dream, anyway.” She blinked. “And you were going to war.”
Jake steepled his fingers together and looked at them both soberly. “Well, if I may make a few preliminary observations here…”
Both Gaia and Ned leaned forward.
“Please do.” It was a cry from Gaia’s heart. Anything would help, any insight, any suggestion—she was ready.
“It’s not hard to see that you both have a Native American heritage in your ancestral history.” Jake waved a hand casually at them. “That’s not new to either of you, I’m sure. So it’s not hard to guess where the dreams may have originated when it comes to your past memories.”
“Past memories?” Ned looked skeptical.
“There are definitely such things as past memories, Ned,” Jake answered quietly. “Our pasts don’t begin at conception, I’ve learned. Our genetic heritage can contain more than hair color or height. We inherit those factors from our parents and grandparents. Why is it so improbable that we inherit genetic memories as well?”
“Uh…” Ned’s expression wasn’t exactly accepting of this notion.
“Bear with me for a bit.” Jake continued his evaluation. “These inherited memories lodge themselves deep within our subconscious, much like a dislike of oranges or a craving for chocolate, to use a food analogy. We don’t know why we have them—we just do. They’re part and parcel of who we are, an integral part of our personality. Most of the time, they’re simply tiny eccentricities that go unnoticed or can be easily explained.”
“Most of the time?” Gaia picked up on the few words that seemed to jump out at her.
Jake smiled. “Yes. Most of the time. There are the one or two rare occasions…”
“You mean like us?” Ned swallowed. “There are others like us?”
Jake lifted one eyebrow. “Would you believe my wife and me?”
“Really?” Gaia’s jaw dropped. “You two had dreams like this?”
Jake chuckled. “You have no idea, honey. And I couldn’t explain it if I tried. Ours were different, of course. Everybody who has them has them differently, if that makes sense. Not long ago, I met an author who was having them. She’s sorted it all out now, thank heavens.”
“An author?”
“Sorry. Privileged information.” Jake’s response made Gaia pout, but she respected his professionalism.
“Of course. I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just sort of comforting to know we’re not the only psychic weirdo’s out there.”
“You’re not.” Jake grinned and shifted in his chair. “Far from it. But you are certainly sharing an intensity that makes me think you two have a shared history together.”
Ned frowned as Gaia bit her lower lip and considered the implications. Silence fell for a few moments.
“Look.” Jake crossed his legs. “If there are such things as genetic memories, then they may well vary in strength. The stronger the emotion, the stronger the memory. And, in my humble opinion, the strongest human emotion there is—is love.”
“Oh.” Gaia felt the color rise in her cheeks. “So that would mean that Ned and I…”
“Shared something very unique and passionate in your pasts? Yes. I believe so.”
“Something that has traveled through time to catch up with us now? That seems real out there, if you’ll pardon the expression, Jake.” Ned was looking as confused as Gaia felt.
Jake thought carefully before replying. “Let’s put it this way. If love is as powerful an emotion as I believe it is, then there is a-a—rightness to it, if you will. A pattern of events destined to take place between two souls fated to meet. Most of the time what is supposed to happen, happe
ns. Two lovers find each other and things run according to plan. But sometimes…” He paused for a second or two, his eyes on Gaia and Jake.
Through some well-developed sensitivity of her own, Gaia knew he wasn’t actually observing them, though. He was looking inward at something only he could see. “Sometimes the plan gets derailed for one reason or another. That’s when the memories become unfinished memories. When the need to complete their mission forces them to make their presence known. In dreams.”
Ned seemed a little bewildered. “But how does this help us get a good night’s sleep? How does it stop the godawful ache I feel when I wake up…”
Gaia flashed him a quick glance. “You too, huh?”
He met her gaze. “Yes. Worse now. Worse since…”
Gaia blushed, the heat setting her cheeks on fire. “Yes, well, we needn’t go into that now.”
Jake grinned wickedly. “Look, it seems that coincidence, happenstance, the fickle finger of Fate or whatever, has brought you two together. You’re attracted to each other on a variety of levels.” The grin became an outright smile. “I don’t have to have a Ph.D. in psychology to see that. It’s there.”
Ned swallowed. “Okay. And?”
“And now it’s time to put an end to the dreams by understanding them. By allowing them to run their course and tell you what’s buried in both your brains.” He stood. “Ordinarily, I’d invite you to my home. My wife and I like to spend some time with our guests, talking with them, getting to know them and their visions. But I understand you’re here only for a short time, Gaia.”
She nodded. “I flew in from DC just a few hours ago.” She was a little surprised. “It seems like a lifetime ago, when I think about it.”
“Here.” Jake offered them a small bottle. “This is a liqueur Renny makes.”
Ned took it cautiously. “Hmm. I’m not big on those sweet after-dinner drinks.”
“All I’m asking—suggesting, actually—is that you two go to dinner. Relax. Have some wine or whatever. Mellow out with each other. Then find someplace quiet and share this. It’s only a few herbs distilled in an alcohol base. Nothing illegal, so my wife assures me. But we’ve found that this particular combination not only enhances relaxation, it dilutes various chemicals within the brain that, for want of a better expression, block the dream memories.”
