Helen and Lily sat in front of the TV, watching the breaking news:
"Though police refuse to comment, this most recent act of vandalism may be connected to two equally devastating attacks at the beginning of the summer. All three are crimes committed during the night in places of worship, first in a Catholic church, then a local synagogue, and now the meeting hall of the Society of Friends, also known as the Quakers…Last night's vandals appear to have torn the pages out of every book on the premises, including several valuable historical documents. These thousands of pages are strewn around the meeting hall, in the words of one witness, 'as if a tornado hit.' At this time no structural damage has been reported."
Joan and Grace caught the tail end of the report, and saw images of the paper-strewn hall as they came down the stairs from Joan's bedroom. Joan gave Grace a knowing look. It was not over. Ryan struck again. The two overheard Lily as she began questioning Helen.
"So you dreamt about this one, too?"
"Yes," Helen replied, "I was standing in that hall, but I didn't know where it was. Wind was whipping around me. I felt the paper blowing past me, and it hurt—like each page cut me as it passed—on my hands and my legs and my face. It was awful!"
Joan and Grace paused on the landing by the front door and looked at each other. Helen Girardi was dreaming about these attacks? Before they happened?
"Weird," Joan whispered to Grace before calling out to her mother, "I'm going out with Grace! Be back later!"
"Okay, honey. Be careful," was Helen's automatic reply.
Lily and Helen continued watching the news report, with its cycles of images surveying the destruction. At the commercial break Helen turned off the TV and turned to Lily with a groan.
"It's all so terrible! Who would do this?"
"I gave up asking that question months ago," Lily replied with a grimace, "It only makes me angry."
"The part that makes me angry is these dreams," Helen sighed.
Lily's face hardened. "See, I don't get that!" She almost snapped the words out as she turned to face Helen. "I would give my right eye to have your charism—the discerning of spirits—but it only makes you angry. How cosmically unfair is that?"
"I wouldn't be so jealous, Lily. I'm not convinced these dreams are a charism, or even that they come from God. I mean, if they are supposed to be the discernment of spirits, wouldn't these dreams tell me something useful? Wouldn't I be able to stop these horrible things from happening? What's the use in dreaming about them if the real crime is committed before I wake up?"
Lily shook her head. "I admit that one's got me stumped, too, but I'm pretty sure God is giving you these dreams for a reason. Maybe they're not really about the crimes—maybe they just coincide with these real life events to catch your attention—to make sure you remember them…"
"Well, God's definitely got my attention," Helen shot back angrily, and Lily could hear the warning in her tone. It was that motherly don't-make-me-come-after-you tone of voice, but she couldn't tell if Helen was warning her, or warning God.
She decided not to risk pushing Helen over the edge, and she extricated herself awkwardly. "Well… I told Kevin I'd meet him for dinner tonight, so I should go get dressed and stuff… you know. I'll see you next week?"
Helen softened a little and looked at Lily with curiosity. "Do you really get dressed up to go out with my son? Somehow I can't quite picture it."
"Oh yeah," Lily retorted, "I wear my frayed denim skirt instead of jeans and I put on lip gloss." Lily shot Helen and defiant smirk on her way out the door. Helen almost laughed out loud, but the smile on her face froze as she realized that she had no idea whether or not Lily was joking. She headed to the kitchen to get dinner ready, shaking her head at Lily, and trying not to think about the news.