The Multitude, стр. 21
But a far more disturbing element had burst onto the scene recently, providing plenty of fodder for additional therapy sessions. Her forest dreams now included a macabre opening act on a subway platform where a man shoved her in front of a train at her request, or she twisted away and leapt on her own. What did it matter?
“You fell onto the tracks again.”
Carla nodded.
“And into the next dream.”
“The good one.”
“Your home away from home.”
The continuing kindness in Elaine’s smile eased Carla into the cushions again. “I fell into Sanctimonia.”
“To watch for barbarians?”
“One can’t be too careful.”
“Or too virtuous. That’s what Sanctimonia means in Latin, isn’t it?”
They’d covered this ground already—more subconscious teasing, this time her brain assigning a happy name to her happy place. She shifted in her chair. These sessions were becoming redundant.
“So once again, your suicide dream—”
“Contrived death.”
“Your dream about contrived death acted as a passageway to this other world of yours.”
“Sanctimonia can’t only be mine. These dreams seem far too real.”
“A contrived death and then this other world of ours.”
Carla had to admit the woman had a gift for understated humor.
“Did I just notice the hint of a smile?”
“You coddle me like a child, Elaine.” The tea had a pleasant aroma, despite a loose leaf or two. She gave in and brought the cup to her lips, and the lemony taste pulled her back to the man’s kitchen. “I’ll tell you what happened, but I don’t want to hear a word about me being crazy.”
“You know I’d never say such a thing.”
“I was swept out of Sanctimonia to a different place.”
Elaine’s fascinated expression was priceless. They hadn’t had a new insane fantasy to discuss since the subway nightmares began.
“One minute I was in the forest and the next in my own neighborhood. Except I wandered down a street I didn’t recognize. The day turned to night. Then a thunderstorm blew through and melted me into the pavement.”
“Go on.”
“A man invited me into his house.”
“Sounds risky.”
“Not really. He had kindness in his eyes. Besides, I knew I was dreaming.” Or had she been? Doubts loomed large in the light of day. She moved her fingers to her temples.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” She groped to recapture her train of thought. Train…bad choice of words. She closed her hands around her cup to stop another tremble. “We sat in his kitchen and enjoyed each other’s company.”
“You liked him.”
“I wished I didn’t have to leave.”
“Where did you need to go?”
“Anywhere but there.” Carla glanced at the lucky couple on the pier. She’d been physically and emotionally attracted to a man who didn’t exist. “He was only a figment.”
“A dream.”
“So why do I have this?” The tremor in her hand intensified. She fumbled in her purse and found the business card Brewster had given her.
Elaine examined the card with pursed lips, flipping it from side to side before handing it back. “You dreamed about someone you’d already met.”
“No, you aren’t following. Brewster is a complete stranger. He gave his card to me during the dream and I awakened with it in my hand!”
Elaine glanced across the room at her PC still resting on the chair. No doubt she was dying to log into an online thesaurus and find the kindest synonym for crazy.
“I looked for him this morning,” Carla pressed, “but I couldn’t find the right street.”
“Let’s think about this.”
She’d thought about it far too much already. “My mother would claim something supernatural happened, but you’re thinking I’m nuts.”
“I’m not leaning that way.”
“You’re just stroking me again.”
Elaine fixed her with her signature expression of reassurance—a pleasant, crinkle-eyed smile. “I’m sure there might be a dozen sane explanations for what happened, but let’s just explore one, okay?”
“Whatever.”
“You don’t think you ever met this man before?”
She shook her head.
“Do you collect customers’ business cards in your shop?”
“I’m not following.”
“Many storekeepers keep little boxes or bowls at the counter where a customer might drop a card in the hope of winning a drawing. Do you have anything like that?”
Ah, the magic of what if. Elaine’s bag of tricks was bottomless! Carla did collect business cards, and she sometimes brought the bowl home. Perhaps one of the cards spilled into the clutter of her apartment until it found its way to her bed, along with the lingerie, toiletries, books, and other random articles she had to clear away when carving out some sleeping space each night. She might have registered the man’s name in her mind before casting the card aside. Then she dreamed about him and later awakened with his card still in the bed, near her hand.
Elaine continued boring that soothing gaze into her soul. “Feeling less crazy?”
No. The last time the fishbowl had come home with her was a month ago when she blasted a bunch of emails out for her Labor Day sale. Why would a random name stick in her head that long? But any more conversation about an imaginary man whose card was somehow real would drive her straight to the recliner, where she’d talk crazier and crazier until doctors in white jackets came to drag her away. “Relieved is the better word.” She tried to fake a smile.
CHAPTER 10
Brewster’s Chicago office, the morning after Carla’s visit
Brewster gave up on the paperwork littering his desk and studied a floral print on the wall. Would anyone else examining the picture perceive the identical image? Perhaps his blue flowers were everyone else’s purple. He took the notion further and considered whether his viewpoint was so unique nobody’s sight, sound, taste, touch, or smell was the same as his.
The next step brought him to the end of the path, a scary question teetering over the edge of a bottomless pit. The only perception he could be sure of was