I shut my eyes and concentrated on finding a peaceful place in my brain to reside. If I could just sleep...check out for a while.
The wind was rushing over my face, but those cool black shades protected my eyes, and a silk scarf that was tied under my chin covered my hair and kept it from flapping around wildly about my face. It was a total ’50s–’60s look. I even had a red-with-white, polka-dot halter dress ruffling with the breeze as I practically flew down the hill in an old convertible black Karmann Ghia. I don’t know how I got the car, but somehow, it wasn’t weird that it was mine. I’ve always wanted one.
To the right and down the bluffs was the azure blue of the ocean, the waves crashing against the rocks, sending frothy droplets of foam up into the air. It was an absolutely gorgeous day, without a cloud in the sky.
Don’t you look sophisticated...?
Thanks, Ryder. I grinned at him in the passenger seat. He was so handsome in a pair of khaki cargos with a brilliantly white T-shirt setting off the bronze tones of his skin. His black hair was wind ruffled, and his green eyes seemed to stand out under his dark eyebrows and lashes. They were so vibrant. I had trouble looking away.
Where are we going?
I got this postcard from my mom on my twelfth birthday. It was a picture of a woman driving this really cool car along the coast, and big letters spelled out Key West. Anyway, I thought I’d take this drive down to Key West, just to see where the road might lead. I’m always so curious to see where my mom was living and what she was doing that was so important.
You want to find out why she couldn’t spend time with you?
Something like that.
So you’ve done this before?
Yeah. Every so often.
Where does the road take you?
Actually, it’s never the same place. As I thought about it, the other trips along this road were fuzzy. I couldn’t remember where I ended up. I think I end up in a different spot every time.
So it’s a dream of frustration.
A dream? Am I dreaming? Hmm. I guess so. Anyway, my question is never answered. I looked over at him and shrugged plaintively.
The dream I have with Nick when we’re kids is a dream of panic. I needed to complete a unit transfer to get him to the medic ward, but neither one of us brought mylunate. The lake is one of the few places that doesn’t have a natural deposit of mylunate anywhere nearby, so I ended up carrying him about two miles or so. His femur was snapped, and he was in extreme pain, but I couldn’t get him there any faster.
Wait a minute. You’re talking about the dream I was in? I suddenly realized I was dreaming and he was in my dream, by his choice instead of mine. Here he was forcing his will on me yet again. This is my dream. I don’t want you here. How did you get into my dream, if I put up a wall against you?
We’re more relaxed in sleep. More susceptible to suggestion, energy, particularly if it’s energy that we recognize. It’s how you were able to get into my dream last night. Ryder looked somber as he explained.
Yeah? Well, get out. I didn’t invite you in.
Just listen to me a moment, Taylor.
I’ve had enough of listening to you. I’m too trailer trash to listen, anyway. Remembering that I could do anything in my dreams, I jumped out of the car, letting it dissolve in midair, and ran for the side of the road, diving off the cliff before I heard him say anything else. I quickly floated hundreds of feet down the bluffs to the beach with the pounding surf, enjoying the exhilaration of a modified free fall. In spite of the wet rocks, I felt secure standing there, the spray refreshing against my face.