Only in Her Dreams (2 page)

Lucessa tried for the millionth time to find a solution as she climbed under the covers.
Who am I kidding?
There was nothing she could do. He was a
dream
! A figment of her imagination. She sighed and resigned herself to another restless night.

Lucessa was a child again. The cold, pine-scented wind tangled her hair as she descended the mountain path in front of her parents. Her family’s annual summer camping trip to Yosemite National Park was in its third day, and that meant they’d conquered the hike to Chilnualna Falls for the third year straight. Ever since her parents deemed her old and skilled enough for the challenge, they hiked it together. As a family.

She looked back at her smiling parents as they held hands and strolled down the path after her. Her mother, Marie, looked casual in her jeans and the blue “Keep Lake Tahoe Blue” shirt that hugged her frame. Her father wore a San Francisco Giants baseball cap, his salt and pepper hair visible around the edges. They looked like a couple out of the travel magazine that Lucessa had seen in her father’s study weeks ago.

“Dear, watch where you’re going!”

Lucessa turned back to the trail and almost collided with a man lounging against a tree just off the path. He was dressed in thigh-hugging dark pants and a billowy tunic that had to be from one of the buccaneer films she liked so much, he pushed off the tree trunk and tipped his hat. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief in the evening twilight, letting off a faint glow. The man looked eerily recognizable.

She looked back to reassure her mother she was okay, and she scanned the woods behind her. But her parents were gone.

Only the familiar stranger remained.

# # #

Lucessa woke with a start.
Oh God, why? Can’t I have one night of peace?
This wasn’t a good way to start her work week. She rolled out of bed knowing there was no way to control it. Her boxer, Goosey, was stretched next to her on the bed. Her feet hit the hardwood floor, and Goosey moved over to greet her with a wet tongue across the face. Gone was the big-footed puppy her husband had brought home before he left. The pup had grown into a happy, well-behaved dog. As her constant companion, the dog slept most nights curled against Lucessa’s side supplying the warmth a husband should provide.

With a sigh, she stood and headed downstairs to start her coffee pot.

# # #

The normal workday over, Lucessa headed to her second job. Sure, she made decent money as an executive assistant at a large advertising firm in Modesto, but with only one income to cover all the bills, it had been necessary to pick up a second job when Greg left for Uganda. After his death, she not only needed the money but something to occupy her time and her mind.

She rushed through the door of The Queen Bean, and bumped her hip on the corner of a table. “Excuse me.”

“Hey, Lucessa.” The customer smiled up at her.

“Hello, Mrs. Johnson.” She smiled at the nurse who came often to enjoy a cup of hot coffee with her friend, a freelance painter.

“Hello, Jack, how’s the new exhibit coming along?”

“I’ve lost my muse and things have slowed down. I’m here to track her down.” He winked at her.

Eclectic jazz music wafted through the colorful room. A pair of hipsters browsed the take-and-leave library while a business exec sipped her coffee and snuck a peek at the price tag on a new photograph Jeff Broome had brought in the night before. Lucessa had the feeling the photograph, featuring the local cityscape, would be sold before tomorrow.

She slipped into the bathroom to change out of her dress slacks and into her uniform, a slim-fitted polo, jeans, and crocs. Crocs went out of style years ago, but she enjoyed the breeze that the holes allowed; the non-skid soles helped in the kitchen.
A person can only wear heels for so long
.

A familiar voice greeted her as she exited the bathroom, “Hey, girlie.”

“Hi, Julie. Looks pretty busy today.”

“Yeah, Bret’s out back setting up the stage. The band should be here any minute for their sound check,” Julie shouted over the coffee grinder.

Lucessa turned toward the door as a group of young people dragged their heavy instrument cases to the back patio. Once a month the local high school band put on a gig to raise money for the Youth Arts Program. Julie and Bret were always more than happy to donate the back patio and a portion of the evening’s profits.

After clocking in, Lucessa surveyed the shop to see what needed to be done before the locals filed in for an evening of classic big band hits. She loved the atmosphere and people who frequented the place. Grabbing a bottle of Windex, a towel and broom, she walked out back to clean up before the crowd arrived.

“How’s the book coming, Mr. Jacobs?” Lucessa asked a man hunched over a laptop, his fingers flying across the keys.

“It’s a screenplay, young lady. As you well know!” Mr. Jacobs huffed. His fingers barely paused to give Lucessa her daily reprimand. It was their private joke. She pretended not to take an interest in the old man, and he enjoyed calling her ‘young lady.’

“You don’t say, Mr. Jacobs?” She raised an eyebrow with her usual response.

She’d been told on her first day at the Queen Bean to expect Jebediah Jacobs every day from one o’clock in the afternoon until five-thirty in the evening. And, like clockwork, he never missed a day. Rumor around the coffee shop was that Jacobs had a breakout screenplay turned into a movie and had been directed by none other than Roman Polanski back in the early 1970s. Since then he worked tirelessly on another screenplay--the next great revolutionary film.

It should be extraordinary after he’d slaved away on it for over four decades.
She continued outside through the open back door and onto the patio. People were already arriving, choosing tables with a good view of the make-shift stage but far enough from the speakers to protect their eardrums.

Julie’s voice floated across the tables from the open order window. “Hey, can you come help take orders inside? This is a large crowd for a Monday night.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

As Lucessa re-entered the coffee shop, she noticed Mr. Jacobs had departed for the evening; she glanced at the rooster-shaped clock on the wall, yep...five-thirty.

Another man sat in his place. It only took Lucessa a second to place the clothing and those clear blue eyes. She gasped, her stomach clenched. It was
him
.

In
her
town.

Sitting in
her
coffee shop.

And he was staring straight at
her
.

Chapter 2

Maxim watched her enter the room through the back door. She looked so different from when he observed her in her dreams. They were not his to control, only to observe from a distance. Most of them took place before her father died; therefore, she appeared as a child of about seven. Gone were the long, stringy brown pigtails, and in their place was a mane of rich mahogany hair that swung just past the middle of her back. Her oversized childs’ pants and flowered t-shirt were replaced with a pair of skin-tight jeans and a blue polo that read ‘The Queen Bean.’

His first trip to Earth in twenty-two years, and all he could do was stare at the girl he’d watched over for more than two decades. Maybe his brother was right; the Oneiroi weren’t meant to interact with humans. It wasn’t safe--for humans or for his kind. This must be why his father, Morpheus, forbade the Oneiroi to pass between the two worlds centuries ago. The temptation was just too great.

She looked up at the clock and then her eyes met his. In them he saw recognition, confusion, fear, and then panic. His thoughts of remaining as an invisible, silent observer were gone. Her eyes seemed to be drawn to him. It was time to go; he’d done enough damage. Guy expected him to stay hidden and unknown to the girl. He stood and walked out the front door of the coffee shop, resolving to find a better way to keep an eye on her.

# # #

The elegant woman behind the desk at Windows of Hope Counseling Center sat the phone on its cradle and turned toward Lucessa. “Miss Sarcona, Doctor Applegate will see you now.” The smile on her face did nothing to soothe Lucessa’s unease at having to return to this office after all this time.

Lucessa popped off the couch, wiped her palms down her black slacks and slowly made her way through the reception area to the doctor’s office.
What am I going to say?
Since the day before, the question had pressed on her. The thought of telling Dr. Applegate that the man from her dreams had now moved into her reality made Lucessa sweat.
She’s going to think I’m crazy.
Hell, Lucessa was beginning to think so herself.

After all the hours of counseling she’d been through since Greg’s death and all the time spent working on herself--cultivating a new life without him, she feared Dr. Applegate would be disappointed in her. As she walked through the doorway into the doctor’s inner sanctum, the familiar couch comforted her.
How many hours have I spend crying on that couch, proclaiming the injustices of the world?

When she sat on the leather seat, her left ring finger immediately found the crack in the worn material and she began rhythmically dragging her nail along its length.

“Hello, Dr. Applegate. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

“I keep time open each day for just this sort of thing.” The doctor sat across from Lucessa. With her notebook and pen in hand, Dr. Applegate was always ready to start right into each session with her clients--even a session that wasn’t officially a session.

Lucessa relaxed. “Well, thanks.”

Dr. Applegate looked puzzled. “I’m surprised to see you today. I thought we were both comfortable with you moving on from therapy. It’s been six weeks, correct?”

It was true. They had agreed almost six weeks prior that, as a grief counselor, Dr. Applegate had done all she could for Lucessa. She’d given her the tools to handle her grief and move forward in her life. The doctor was the only person she’d spoken to about Greg’s death, her mother’s sickness, and the car crash that took the life of her father. Well, besides Julie.

Lucessa decided to break the silence and possibly provoke her psychologist to refer her to the psych ward at the local hospital. “I started seeing the man again.” The words tumbled from her mouth in a rush. Again, her finger sought the comfort of the defect in the couch.

“We talked about this, Lucessa.” Dr. Applegate spoke slowly, pronouncing every word as if she were explaining the need for brushing one’s teeth to a toddler. “You knew the likelihood that you would dream about
him
again was fairly high. When a person like yourself conjures such an image,” she paused, “these figments of your imagination...that is a better term, are often there to take on a protective role in one’s life and act as a safeguard when one feels alone or vulnerable.”

Dr. Applegate set her pen down on her pad of paper, apparently uninterested in recording anything further from Lucessa’s unofficial session.

“No, I mean I
actually
saw him. At the coffee shop. He was wearing the same clothes from my dreams, and had the same intense stare.”

With a lift of one meticulously groomed eyebrow, Dr. Applegate asked, “How did you react?”

She asked the question as if she hadn’t heard a word Lucessa had said. As if she didn’t think Lucessa was crazy.

“I was shocked, of course. I just stared. I felt paralyzed,” she sighed. Her shoulders slumped; a large weight settling on her. In the past, her appointments with Dr. Applegate had helped her put her life in perspective, ridding her of doubt, confusion, and loneliness. This session was different.

“Then what happened? Did he speak to you?”

“No, he got up and left, just like that. Not a word.” Standing, Lucessa began pacing the small room. “He’s haunted me since my father’s death, and when I come face-to-face with him, he walks out.”

Dr. Applegate’s brow scrunched. “Why didn’t
you
approach
him
?”

“I-I-I couldn’t.” Lucessa took her seat, defeated. The idea was ludicrous. She didn’t relish the idea of making a fool of herself. What if she’d been imagining him? The seat could’ve been empty. She would’ve been talking to thin air. It was safer--easier--to sit and talk this through with a professional.

“Then we’re right where we started,” she said, as she made to rise from her chair, officially ending the non-session.

With a slight twisting in her belly, Lucessa realized the woman was right. She had the opportunity to find out who the man was and what he wanted with her. But she’d frozen, unable to ask a single question--resolving nothing. He was gone, but she had a sinking feeling he’d be back.

# # #

“What do you mean she recognized you?” Guy’s voice echoed through the room.

“I mean she stared right at me, Guy!” Spittle flew from Maxim’s mouth, landing among the papers scattered across the large desk. He didn’t usually address his brother in such an informal way. “I thought you said humans do not remember when we visit in their dreams.”

“They don’t.”

“She clearly recognized me.”

“That is impossible.” Guy rose from his seat behind his desk and walked to stand in front of the fire. His eyes gazed blindly into the flames.

Maxim returned to Erebos quickly after his encounter with the girl. He needed answers from his eldest brother, time was of the essence. “How shall I proceed?” he finally asked.

Chapter 3

Darius watched the girl enter her home. It seemed to fit her, tan with dark green shutters and a well-manicured lawn. An aged, quaint bungalow in a well-maintained neighborhood. Two neighbors had waved to him as he drove down the street, for fuck’s sake. He wasn’t out for a Sunday cruise. What would the neighbors do if they knew his true intentions for invading their peaceful slice of suburbia?