The nightmares galloped roughshod through my dreamscapes. Every night, every nap.
During my sleep-interrupted nights, they were waking my husband and even the children sometimes.
Not that I could do a lot about those dreams.
That morning, I woke up alone in our bed.
When I did sleep, it was always a hard one - nothing could wake me. His rising to work, and getting his own breakfast without me - that fueled my discontent.
Dressing that morning, I saw the dark circles under my eyes and resolved - something had to be done. Today.
Why those dreams were coming now had something to do with my amnesia.
But I only wished the first memories weren't of my childhood home exploding in flame.
Along with the idea I somehow caused all that...
Arthur was gone when I woke up.
Out of habit, I looked over at the calendar I'd hung on a nail in that wall. It was my 45th birthday. There had been forty-five days since I woke up here, without any past. I was supposed to be dead. But was very much alive.
There were two things I was happy about that morning, even though my face wore a frown.
One was being alive again.
The other was being awake again.
My dreams had been more and more depressing and violent.
The girls were big enough to sleep in their own room now. So my husband Arthur was the only one I interrupted with my thrashing and yelling. I'd only screamed out loud once, according to him.
He wasn't in bed with me.
But I could hardly tell where he had slept, since the covers and sheets were all tossed and tangled. Pillows, too. A veritable storm had hit that quiet room.
A storm that quit now that I was awake.
Rising to dress, I looked at myself in the dresser mirror.
Dark circled eyes stared back at me. Disheveled, long black wavy hair. A fright mask, for sure.
Meaning – I had to do something to fix this. My life couldn't get much worse, so I had nothing to lose.
Except two beautiful kids, and a loving, devoted husband. Between them, they'd saved my life and given me something to live for.
- - - -
I found him at the restaurant. My restaurant. Sitting with his parents, Jim and Sandy, all together for breakfast. All smiling and talking about family things, I imagined. Once I got through the front door with that dinging bell over it, they all looked up at me with those smiles, and I relaxed.
I was surrounded by love, which pushed my worries to the back of my mind.
Coming over to sit with them, Arthur got up to help me with my chair – not that he had to, but that's always appreciated.
Some weeks ago, he'd quit asking me about how I slept. Probably because he knew. His holding me in his strong arms and broad shoulders was one of the only ways I could get to sleep again.
Arthur's dad spoke first. “Molly, I think it's time we told you about the Lazurai history, as short as it is. All we know about how this is affecting you and the children.”
Arthur put his hand on mine. “Darling, those bad dreams could be from your life before you first woke up here. Your memories may be coming back.”
I tensed. “Meaning that the recurring vision of my home blowing up might have me to blame for it?”
At least now it was all in the open.
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